AUEELIAN; 


ROME    IN    THE    THIRD    CENTURY 


AURELIAN; 


n 


Clfirft 


IN    LETTERS   OF  LUCIUS   M.    PISO,    FttOM   ROME,    TO    FAUSTA, 
THE    DAUGHTER   OF  GRACCHUS,    AT   PALMYRA. 


BY 


WILLIAM    WAKE, 

AUTHOR     OF      "ZENOBIA,"     "JULIAN,"     IVO. 


FIFTH     EDITION. 


TWO     VOLUMB8     COMPLJSTM     IW     ON*, 


VOL.    Ir 


NEW   YORK: 
PUBLISHED  BY   JAMES  MILLER. 

(SUCCESSOR  TO  c.  s.  FKANCIS  &  co.) 

647  BKOADWAY. 

1874. 


Entered,  according-  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1838; 

ByCiiARLES  S.  FRANCIS, 
in  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


Entered,  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1 866; 

By  MARY  WARE, 
in.  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  Southern  District  of  New  York 


McujJ 

NOTICE. 

THIS  book  —  a  sequel  to  Zenobia  —  published  nearly 
ten  years  ago  under  the  name  of  '  Probus, '  was  soon  re- 
published,  in  several  places  abroad,  under  that  of 
*  Aurelian.'  So  far  from  complaining  of  the  innova 
tion,  I  could  not  but  regard  it  as  a  piece  of  good  fortune, 
as  I  had  myself  long  thought  the  present  a  more  appro 
priate  title  than  the  one  originally  chosen.  Add  to  this, 
that  the  publisher  of  the  work,  on  lately  proposing  a  new 
edition,  urgently  advised  the  adoption  of  *,he  foreign 
name,  and  I  have  thought  myself  sufficiently  warranted 
in  an  alteration  which  circumstances  seemed  almost  to 
require,  or,  at  least,  to  excuse. 

w.  w. 


AUEBL.I  AN. 


THE  record  which  follows,  is  by  the  hand  of  me, 
NICOBIACHUS,  once  the  happy  servant  of  the  great  Queen 
of  Palmyra,  than  whom  the  world  never  saw  a  queers 
more  illustrious,  or  a  woman  adorned  with  brighter  vir 
tues.  But  my  design  is  not  to  write  her  eulogy,  or  to  re 
cite  the  wonderful  story  of  her  life.  That  task  requires 
a  stronger  and  a  more  impartial  hand  than  mine.  The 
life  of  Zenobia  by  Nicomachus,  would  be  the  portrait  of 
a  mother  and  a  divinity,  drawn  by  the  pen  of  a  child 
and  a  worshipper. 

My  object  is  a  humbler,  but  perhaps  also  a  more  use 
ful  one.  It  is  to  collect  and  arrange,  in  their  proper  or 
der,  such  of  the  letters  of  the  most  noble  Lucius  MAN- 
LIUS  Piso,  as  shall  throw  most  light  upon  his  character 
ind  times,  supplying  all  defects  of  incident,  and  filling 
up  all  chasms  that  may  occur,  out  of  the  knowledge 
which  more  exactly  than  any  one  else,  I  have  been  able 


8  AURELtAN. 

to  gatho.r  concerning  all  that  relates  to  the  distinguished 
family  of  the  Pisos,  after  its  connection  with  the  more 
distinguished  one  still,  of  the  Queen  of  Palmyra. 

It  is  in  this  manner  that  I  propose  to  amuse  the  few 
remaining  days  of  a  green  old  age,  not  without  hope 
both  to  amuse  and  benefit  others  also.  This  is  a  labor, 
as  those  will  discover  who  read,  not  unsuitable  to  one 
who  stands  trembling  on  the  verge  of  life,  and  whom  a 
single  rude  blast  may  in  a  moment  consign  to  the  em 
braces  of  the  universal  mother.  I  will  not  deny  that 
my  chief  satisfaction  springs  from  the  fact,  that  in  col 
lecting  these  letters,  and  binding  them  together  by  a 
connecting  narrative,  I  am  engaged  in  the  honorable 
task  of  tracing  out  some  of  the  steps  by  which  the  new 
religion  has  risen  to  its  present  height  of  power.  For 
whether  true  or  false,  neither  friend  nor  foe,  neither 
philosopher  nor  fool,  can  refuse  to  admit  the  regenera 
ting  and  genial  influences  of  its  so  wide  reception  upon 
the  Roman  character  and  manners.  If  not  the  gift  of 
the  gods,  it  is  every  way  worthy  a  divine  origin  ;  and 
I  cannot  but  feel  myself  to  be  worthily  occupied  in  record 
ing  the  deeds,  the  virtues,  and  the  sufferings,  of  those 
who  put  their  faith  in  it,  and,  in  times  of  danger  and 
oppression,  stood  forth  to  defend  it.  Age  is  slow  of 
belief.  The  thoughts  then  cling  with  a  violent  perti 
nacity  to  the  fictions  of  its  youth,  once  held  to  be  the 
most  sacred  realities.  But  for  this  I  should,  I  believe, 
myself  long  ago  have  been  a  Christian.  I  daily  pray  to 
the  Supreme  Power  that  my  stubborn  nature  may  yet 
so  far  yield,  that  I  may  be  able,  with  a  free  and  full 
assent,  to  call  myself  a  follower  of  Christ.  A  Greek  by 
birth,  a  Palmyrene  by  choice  and  adoption,  a  Roman 


AURELIAN .  9 

by  necessity  —  and  these  are  all  honorable  names  —  I 
would  yet  rather  be  a  Christian  than  either.  Strange 
that,  with  so  strong  desires  after  a  greater  good,  I  should 
remain  fixed  where  I  have  ever  been  !  Stranger  still, 
seeing  I  have  moved  so  long  in  the  same  sphere  with 
the  excellent  Piso,  the  divine  Julia  —  that  emanation  of 
God  —  and  the  god-like  Probus  !  But  there  is  no 
riddle  so  hard  for  man  to  read  as  himself.  I  sometimes 
feel  most  inclined  toward  the  dark  fatalism  of  the  stoics, 
since  it  places  all  things  beyond  the  region  of  conjec 
ture  or  doubt. 

Yet  if  I  may  not  be  a  Christian  myself —  I  do  not, 
however,  cease  both  to  hope  and  pray  —  I  am  happy  in 
this,  that  I  am  permitted  by  the  Divine  Providence  to 
behold,  in  these  the  last  days  of  life,  the  quiet  suprem 
acy  of  a  faith  which  has  already  added  so  much  to  the 
common  happiness,  and  promises  so  much  more.  Hav 
ing  stood  in  the  midst,  and  looked  upon  the  horrors  of 
two  persecutions  of  the  Christians  —  the  first  by  Aure- 
lian  and  the  last  by  Diocletian  —  which  last  seemed  at 
one  moment  as  if  it  would  accomplish  its  work,  and  blot 
out  the  very  name  of  Christian  —  I  have  no  language 
in  which  to  express  the  satisfaction  with  which  I  sit 
down  beneath  the  peaceful  shadows  of  a  Christian 
throne,  and  behold  the  general  security  and  exulting 
freedom  enjoyed  by  the  many  millions  throughout  the 
vast  empire  of  the  great  Constantine.  Now,  every 
where  around,  the  Christians  are  seen,  undeterred  by 
any  apprehension  of  violence,  with  busy  hands  reerect- 
ing  the  demolished  temples  of  their  pure  and  spiritual 
faith  ;  yet  not  unmindful,  in  the  mean  time,  of  the  labor 
yet  to  be  doue,  to  draw  away  the  remaining  multitudes 


10  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  If  . 

of  idolaters  from  the  superstitions  which,  while  they  in 
fatuate,  degrade  and  brutalize  them.  With  the  zeal  of 
the  early  apostles  of  this  religion,  they  are  applying 
themselves,  with  untiring  diligence,  to  soften  and  sub 
due  the  stony  heart  of  hoary  Paganism,  receiving  but 
too  often,  as  their  only  return,  curses  and  threats  — 
now  happily  vain  —  and  retiring  from  the  assault, 
leading  in  glad  triumph  captive  multitudes.  Often,  as 
I  sit  at  my  window,  overlooking,  from  the  southern 
slope  of  the  Quirinal,  the  magnificent  Temple  of  the 
Sun,  the  proudest  monument  of  Aurelian's  reign,  do  I 
pause  to  observe  the  labors  of  the  artificers  who,  just  as 
it  were  beneath  the  shadow  of  its  columns,  are  placing 
the  last  stones  upon  the  dome  of  a  Christian  church. 
Into  that  church  the  worshippers  shall  enter  unmolested ; 
mingling  peacefully,  as  they  go  and  return,  with  the 
crowds  that  throng  the  more  gorgeous  temple  of  the 
idolaters.  Side  by  side,  undisturbed  and  free,  do  the 
Pagans  and  Christians,  Greeks,  Jews,  and  Egyptians, 
now  observe  the  rites,  and  offer  the  worship,  of  their  va 
rying  faiths.  This  happiness  we  owe  to  the  wise  and 
merciful  laws  of  the  great  Constantine.  So  was  it, 
long  since,  in  Palmyra,  under  the  benevolent  rule  of 
Zenobia.  May  the  time  never  come,  when  Christians 
shall  do  otherwise  than  now  ;  when,  remembering  the 
wrongs  they  have  received,  they  shall  retaliate  torture 
and  death  upon  the  blind  adherents  of  the  ancient  su 
perstition  ! 

These  letters  of  Piso  to  Fausta  the  daughter  of  Grac 
chus,  now  follow. 


ATTRELIAN.  11 

LETTER    I. 

FROM     P1SO     TO     FAUSTA. 


I  AM  not  surprised,  Fausta,  that  you  complain  of  my 
silence.  It  were  strange  indeed  if  you  did  not.  But 
as  for  most  of  our  misdeeds  we  have  excuses  ready  at 
hand,  so  have  I  for  this.  First  of  all,  I  was  not  igno 
rant,  that,  however  I  might  fail  you,  from  your  other 
greater  friend  you  would  experience  no  such  neglect  ; 
but  on  the  contrary  would  be  supplied  with  sufficient 
fulness  and  regularity,  with  all  that  could  be  worth 
knowing,  concerning  either  our  public  or  private  affairs. 
For  her  sake,  too,  I  was  not  unwilling,  that  at  first  the 
burden  of  this  correspondence,  if  I  may  so  term  it. 
should  rest  where  it  has,  since  it  has  afforded,  I  am  per 
suaded,  a  pleasure,  and  provided  an  occupation  that 
could  have  been  found  nowhere  else.  Just  as  a  flood  of 
tears  brings  relief  to  a  bosom  laboring  under  a  heavy 
sorrow,  so  has  this  pouring  out  of  herself  to  you  in  fre 
quent  letters,  served  to  withdraw  the  mind  of  the  Queen 
from  recollections,  which,  dwelt  upon  as  they  were  at 
first,  would  soon  have  ended  that  life  in  which  all  ours 
seem  bound  up. 

Then  again,  if  you  accept  the  validity  of  this  excuse, 
I  have  another,  which,  as  a  woman,  you  will  at  once 
allow  the  force  of.  You  will  not  deem  it  a  better  one 
than  the  other,  but  doubtless  as  good.  It  is  this  :  .that 
for  a  long  time  I  have  been  engaged  in  taking  possession 


12  AURELIAN. 

of  my  new  dwelling  upon  the  Coelian,  not  far  from  that 
of  Portia.  Of  this  you  may  have  heard,  in  the  letters 
which  have  reached  you  ;  but  that  will  not  prevent  mo 
from  describing  to  you,  with  more  exactness  than  any 
other  can  have  done  it,  the  home  of  your  old  and  fast 
friend,  Lucius  Manlius  Piso  ;  for  I  think  it  adds  greatly 
to  the  pleasure  with  which  we  think  of  an  absent  friend, 
to  be  able  to  see,  as  in  a  picture,  the  form  and  material 
arid  position  of  the  house  he  inhabits,  and  even  the  very 
aspect  and  furniture  of  the  room  in  \vhich~he  is  accus 
tomed  to  pass  the  most  of  his  time.  This  to  me  is  a 
satisfaction  greater  than  you  can  well  conceive,  when,  in 
my  ruminating  hours,  which  are  many,  I  return  to  Pal 
myra,  and  place  myself  in  the  circle  with  Gracchus,  Cal- 
purnius,  and  yourself.  Your  palace  having  now  been 
restored  to  its  former  condition,  I  know  where  to  find 
you  at  the  morning,  noon,  and  evening  hour  ;  the  only 
change  you  have  made  in  the  former  arrangements  be 
ing  this  :  that  whereas  when  I  was  your  guest,  your  pri 
vate  apartments  occupied  the  eastern  wing  of  the  palace, 
they  are  now  in  the  western,  once  mine,  which  I  used 
then  to  maintain  were  the  most  agreeable  and  noble  of 
all.  The  prospects  which  its  windows  afford  of  the 
temple,  and  the  distant  palace  of  the  queen,  and  of 
the  evening  glories  of  the  setting  sun,  are  more  than 
enough  to  establish  its  claims  to  an  undoubted  superi 
ority  ;  and  if  to  these  be  added  the  circumstance, 
that  for  so  long  a  time  the  Roman  Piso  was  their  occu 
pant,  the  case  is  made  out  beyond  all  peradventure. 

But  I  am  describing  your  palace  rather  than  my  own. 
You  must  remember  my  paternal  seat  on  the  southern 
declivity  of  the  hill,  overlooking  the  course  of  the  Ti- 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  13 

ber  as  it  winds  away  to  the  sea.  Mine  is  not  far  from 
it,  but  on  the  northern  side  of  the  hill,  and  thereby 
possessing  a  situation  more  favorable  to  comfort,  during 
the  heats  of  summer — I  loving  the  city,  as  you  well 
know,  better  if  anything  during  the  summer  than  the 
winter  months.  Standing  upon  almost  the  highest  point 
of  the  hill,  it  commands  a  wide  and  beautiful  prospect, 
especially  toward  the  north  and  east,  the  eye  shooting 
over  the  whole  expanse  of  city  and  suburbs,  and  then 
resting  upon  the  purple  outline  of  the  distant  mountains. 
Directly  before  me  are  the  magnificent  structures  which 
crown  the  Esquiline,  conspicuous  among  which,  and  in- 
ieed  eminent  over  all,  are  the  Baths  of  Titus.  Then. 
as  you  will  conjecture,  the  eye  takes  in  the  Palatine  and 
Capitol  hills,  catching,  just  beyond  the  last,  the  swelling 
dome  of  the  Pantheon,  which  seems  rather  to  rise  out 
of,  and  crown,  the  Flavian  Amphitheatre,  than  its  own 
massy  walls.  Then,  far  in  the  horizon,  we  just  discern 
the  distant  summits  of  the  Appenines,  broken  by  So- 
racte  and  the  nearer  hills. 

The  principal  apartments  are  on  the  northern  side  of 
the  palace,  opening  upon  a  portico  of  Corinthian  col 
umns,  running  its  entire  length  and  which  would  not 
disgrace  Palmyra  itself.  At  the  eastern  extremity,  are 
the  rooms  common  to  the  family  ;  in  the  centre,  a  spa 
cious  hall,  in  the  adorning  of  which,  by  every  form  of 
art,  I  have  exhausted  my  knowledge  and  taste  in  such 
things  ;  and  at  the  western  extremity,  my  library,  where 
at  this  moment  I  sit,  and  where  I  have  gathered  around 
me  all  in  letters  and  art  that  I  most  esteem.  This  room 
I  have  decorated  for  myself  and  Julia  —  not  for  others. 
2 


14  AURELIAN 

Whatever  has  most  endeared  itself  to  otrr  imaginations, 
our  minds,  or  our  hearts,  has  here  its  home.  The  books 
that  have  most  instructed  or  amused  ;  the  statuary  that 
most  raises  and  delights  us  ;  the  pictures  on  which  we 
most  love  to  dwell ;  the  antiquities  that  possess  most  cu 
riosity  or  value,  are  here  arranged,  anJ  in  an  order 
that  would  satisfy,  I  believe,  even  your  fastidious  taste. 
I  will  not  weary  you  with  any  more  minute  account 
of  my  new  dwelling,  leaving  that  duty  to  the  readier 
pen  of  Julia.  Yet  I  cannot  relieve  you  till  I  have 
spoken  of  two  of  the  statues  which  occupy  the  most 
conspicuous  niche  in  the  library.  You  will  expect  me 
to  name  Socrates  and  Plato,  or  Numa  and  Seneca  — 
these  are  all  there,  but  it  is  not  of  either  of  them  that  I 
would  speak.  They  are  the  venerable  founders  of  the 
Jewish  and  Christian  religions,  MOSES  and  CHRIST. 
These  statues,  of  the  purest  marble,  stand  side  by  side, 
at  one  extremity  of  the  apartment  ;  and  immediately 
before  them,  and  within  the  wondrous  sphere  of  their 
influences  stands  the  table  at  which  I  write,  and  where 
I  pursue  my  inquiries  in  philosophy  and  religion.  You 
smile  at  my  enthusiasm,  Fausta,  and  wonder  when  I 
shall  return  to  the  calm  sobriety  of  my  ancient  faith.  In 
this  wonder  there  are  a  thousand  errors  —  but  of  these 
hereafter.  I  was  to  tell  you  of  these  sculptures.  Of 
the  statue  of  Moses,  I  possess  no  historical  account,  and 
know  not  what  its  claim  may  be  to  truth.  I  can  only 
say,  it  is  a  figure  truly  grand,  and  almost  terrific.  It  is 
of  a  size  larger  than  life,  and  expresses  no  sentiment  so 
perfectly  as  authority  —  the  authority  of  a  rigorous  and 
austere  ruler  —  both  in  the  attitude  of  the  body  and  the 
features  of  the  countenance.  The  head  is  slightly  raised 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  15 

arid  drawn  back,  as  if  listening,  awe-struck,  to  a  com 
munication  from  the  God  who  commissioned  him,  while 
his  left  hand  supports  a  volume,  and  his  right  grasps  a 
stylus,  with  which,  when  the  voice  has  ceased,  to  record 
the  communicated  truth.  Place  in  his  hands  the  thun 
derbolt,  and  at  his  feet  the  eagle,  and  the  same  form 
would  serve  for  Jupiter  the  Thunderer,  except  only  that 
to  the  countenance  of  the  Jewish  prophet  there  has  been 
imparted  a  rapt  and  inspired  look,  wholly  beyond  any 
that  even  Phidias  could  have  fixed  upon  the  face  of  Jove. 
He  who  wrought  this  head  must  have  believed  in  the 
sublimities  of  the  religion  whose  chief  minister  he  has 
made  so  to  speak  them  forth,  in  the  countenance  and 
in  the  form  ;  and  yet  who  has  ever  heard  of  a  Jew 
sculptor  ? 

The  statue  of  Christ  is  of  a  very  different  character  ; 
as  different  as  the  Christian  faith  is  from  that  of  the 
Jewish,  notwithstanding  they  are  still  by  many  con 
founded.  I  cannot  pretend  to  describe  to  you  the  holy 
beauty  that  as  it  were  constitutes  this  perfect  work  of 
art.  If  you  ask  what  authority  tradition  has  invested  it 
with,  I  can  only  say  that  I  do  not  know.  All  I  can  af 
firm  with  certainty,  is  this,  that  it  once  stood  in  the  pal 
ace  of  Alexander  Severus,  in  company  with  the  images 
of  other  deified  men  and  gods,  whom  he  chiefly  rever 
enced.  When  that  excellent  prince  had  fallen  under 
the  blows  of  assassins,  his  successor  and  murderer,  Max- 
imin,  having  little  knowledge  or  taste  for  what  was 
found  in  the  palace  of  Alexander,  tho~e  treasures  were 
sold,  and  the  statue  of  Christ  came  into  the  hands  of  a 
distinguished  and  wealthy  Christian  of  that  day,  who, 
perishing  in  the  persecution  of  Decius,  his  descendants 


16  AURELIAN. 

became  impoverished,  and  were  compelled  to  part  with 
even  this  sacred  relic  of  their  former  greatness.  From 
them  I  purchased  it  ;  and  often  are  they  to  be  seen, 
whenever  for  such  an  object  they  can  steal  away  from 
necessary  cares,  standing  before  it  and  renewing,  as  it 
would  seem,  their  vows  of  obedience,  in  the  presence  of 
the  founder  of  their  faith.  The  room  is  free  to  their 
approach,  whenever  they  are  thus  impelled. 

The  expression  of  this  statue,  I  have  said,  is  wholly 
different  from  that  of  the  Hebrew.  His  is  one  of  au 
thority  and  of  sternness  ;  this  of  gentleness  and  love. 
Christ  is  represented,  like  the  Moses,  in  a  sitting  pos 
ture,  with  a  countenance,  not  like  his  raised  to  Heaven, 
but  bent  with  looks  somewhat  sad  and  yet  full  of  benev 
olence,  as  if  upon  persons  standing  before  him.  Fra 
ternity,  I  think,  is  the  idea  you  associate  with  it  most 
readily.  I  should  never  suppose  him  to  be  a  judge  or 
censor,  or  arbitrary  master,  but  rather  an  elder  brother ; 
elder  in  the  sense  of  wiser,  holier,  purer  ;  whose  look  is 
not  one  of  reproach  that  others  are  not  as  himself,  but 
of  pity  and  desire  ;  and  whose  hand  would  rather  be 
stretched  forth  to  lift  up  the  fallen  than  to  smite  the 
offender.  To  complete  this  expression,  and  inspire  the 
beholder  with  perfect  confidence,  the  left  hand  rests  up 
on  a  little  child,  who  stands  with  familiar  reverence  at 
his  knee,  and  looking  up  into  his  face  seems  to  say,  '  No 
evil  can  come  to  me  here.' 

Opposite  this,  and  at  the  other  extremity  of  the  apart 
ment,  hangs  a  picture  of  Christ,  representing  him  in  very 
exact  accordance  with  the  traditional  accounts  of  his  fea 
tures  and  form,  a  description  of  which  exists,  and  is  held 
by  most  authentic,  in  a  letter  of  Publius  Lentulus,  a  Ro 


AURELIAN.  17 

man  of  the  same  period.  Between  this  and  the  statue 
there  is  a  close  resemblance,  or  as  close  as  we  usually 
see  between  two  heads  of  Csesar,  or  of  Cicero.  Marble, 
however,  is  the  only  material  that  suits  the  character 
and  office  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  Color,  and  its  minute 
effects,  seem  in  some  sort  to  degrade  the  subject.  I  re 
tain  the  picture  because  of  its  supposed  truth. 

Portia,  as  you  will  believe,  is  full  of  wonder  and  sor 
row  at  these  things.  Soon  after  my  library  had  received 
its  last  additions,  my  mother  came  to  see  what  she  haa 
already  heard  of  so  much.  As  she  entered  the  apait- 
ment,  I  was  sitting  in  my  accustomed  seat,  with  Julia 
at  my  side,  and  both  of  us  gazing  in  admiration  at  the 
figures  I  have  just  described.  We  were  both  too  much 
engrossed  to  notice  the  entrance  of  Portia,  our  first  warn 
ing  of  her  presence  being  her  hand  laid  upon  my  head. 
We  rose  and  placed  her  between  us. 

'My  son,'  said  she,  looking  intently  as  she  spoke  up 
on  the  statues  before  us,  *  what  strange  looking  figures 
are  these  ?  That  upon  my  left  might  serve  for  Jupiter, 
but  for  the  roll  and  the  stylus.  And  why  place  you  be 
ings  of  character  so  opposite,  as  these  appear  to  have 
been,  side  by  side?  This  other  upon  my  right  —  ah, 
how  beautiful  it  is  !  What  mildness  in  those  eyes,  and 
what  a  divine  repose  over  the  form,  which  no  event,  not 
the  downfall  of  a  kingdom  nor  its  loss,  would  seem  capa 
ble  to  disturb.  Is  it  the  peace-loving  Numa  ? ' 

1  Not  so,'  said  Julia  ;  '  there  stands  Numa,  leaning  on 
the  sacred  shield,  from  the  centre  of  which  beams  the 
countenance  of  the  divine  Egeria.' 

*  Yes,  I  see  it,'  replied  Portia  ;  xnd  rising  from  he* 
2* 


18  A  T)  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

seat,  she  stood  gazing  round  the  apartment,  examining 
its  various  appointments.  When  her  eye  had  sought 
out  the  several  objects,  and  dwelt  upon  them  a  moment, 
she  said,  in  tones  somewhat  reproachful,  as  much  so  as 
it  is  in  her  nature  to  assume : 

'  Where,  Lucius,  are  the  gods  of  Rome  ?  Do  those 
who  have,  through  so  many  ages,  watched  over  our 
country,  and -guarded  our  house,  deserve  no  honor  at 
your  hands  ?  Does  not  gratitude  require  at  least  that 
their  images  should  be  here,  so  that,  whether  you  your 
self  worship  them  or  not,  their  presence  may  inspire 
others  with  reverence  ?  But  alas  for  the  times  !  Piety 
seems  dead ;  or,  with  the  faith  that  inspires  it,  it  lives 
but  in  a  few,  who  will  soon  disappear,  and  religion  with 
them.  Whose  forms  are  these,  Lucius  ?  concerning 
one  I  can  now  easily  surmise  —  but  the  other,  this  stern 
and  terrific  man,  who  is  he  ? ' 

*  That,'  I  replied,  '  is  Moses,  the  founder  of  Judaism/ 

4  Immortal  gods ! '  exclaimed  Portia,  *  the  statue  of  a 
Jew  in  the  halls  of  the  Pisos !  Well  may  it  be  that 
Rome  approaches  her  decline,  when  her  elder  sons  turn 
against  her.' 

1  Nay,  my  mother,  I  am  not  a  Jew.' 

'  I  would  thou  wert,  rather  than  be  what  I  suppose 
thou  art,  a  Christian.  The  Jew,  Lucius,  can  boast  of 
antiquity,  at  least,  in  behalf  of  his  religion.  But  the 
faith  which  you  would  profess  and  extend,  is  but  of  yes 
terday.  Would  the  gods  ever  leave  mankind  without 
religion  ?  Is  it  only  to-day  that  they  reveal  the  truth  ? 
Have  they  left  us  for  these  many  ages  to  grope  along  in 
error  ?  Never,  Lucius,  can  I  believe  it.  It  is  enough 
for  me  that  the  religion  of  Rome  is  old  as  Rome,  to 


AURELIAN.  19 

rndear  it  to  my  heart,  and  commend  it  to  my  under 
standing.  It  is  not  for  the  first  time,  to-day,  that  the 
gods  have  spoken.' 

*  But,  my  dear  mother,*  I  rejoined,  *  if  age  makes 
truth,  there  are  older  religions  than  this  of  Rome.  Ju 
daism  itself  is  older,  by  many  centuries.  But  it  is  not 
because  a  religion  is  new  or  old,  that  I  would  receive  or 
reject  it.-  The  only  question  is,  does  it  satisfy  my  heart 
and  mind,  and  is  it  true  ?  The  faith  which  you  en 
grafted  upon  my  infant  mind,  fails  to  meet  the  wants  of 
my  nature,  and  upon  looking  for  its  foundations,  I  find 
them  not.' 

« Is  thy  nature  different  from  mine,  Lucius  ?  Surely, 
thou  art  my  own  child !  It  has  satisfied  me  and  my 
nature.  I  ask  for  nothing  else,  or  better.' 

1  There  are  some  natures,  mother,  by  the  gods  so  fur 
nished  and  filled  with  all  good  desires  and  affections, 
that  their  religion  is  born  with  them  and  is  in  them. 
It  matters  little  under  what  outward  form  and  adminis 
tration  of  truth  they  dwell  ;  no  system  could  injure 
them  —  none  would  greatly  benefit.  They  are  of  the 
family  of  God,  by  birth,  and  are  never  disinherited.' 

*  Yes,  Portia,'  said  Julia,  '  natural  and  divine  in 
stincts  make  you  what  others  can  become  only  through 
the  powerful  operation  of  some  principle  out  of,  and  su 
perior  to,  anything  they  find  within.  For  me,  I  know 
not  what  I  should  have  been,  without  the  help  which 
Christianity  has  afforded.  I  might  have  been  virtuous, 
but  I  could  not  have  been  happy.  You  surely  rejoice, 
when  the  weak  find  that  in  any  religion  or  philosophy 
which  gives  them  strength.  Look,  Portia,  at  that  serene 
and  benignant  countenance,  and  can  you  believe  that 


20  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N. 

any  truth  eve .  came  from  its  lips,  but  such  as  must  be 
most  comforting  and  exalting  to  those  who  receive  it  ? ' 

'  It  would  seem  so  indeed,  my  child,'  replied  Portia, 
musingly, '  and  I  would  not  deprive  any  :>f  the  comforts 
or  strength  which  any  principle  may  impart.  But  I 
cannot  cease  to  think  it  dangerous  to  the  state,  when  the 
faith  of  the  founders  of  Rome  is  abandoned  by  those 
who  fill  its  highest  places.  You  who  abound  hi  leisure 
and  learning,  may  satisfy  yourselves  with  a  new  phi 
losophy  ;  but  what  shall  these  nice  refinements  profit 
the  common  herd  ?  How  shall  they  see  them  to  be 
true,  or  comprehend  them  ?  The  Romans  have  ever 
been  a  religious  people  ;  .and  although  under  the  empire 
the  purity  of  ancient  manners  is  lost,  let  it  not  be  said 
that  the  Pisos  were  among  those  who  struck  the  last 
and  hardest  blows  at  the  still  stout  root  of  the  tree  that 
bore  them.' 

*  Nothing  can  be  more  plain  or  intelligible,'  I  replied, 
'  than  the  principles  of  the  Christian  religion  ;  and 
wherever  it  has  been  preached  with  simplicity  and  pow 
er,  even  the  common  people  have  readily  and  gratefully 
adopted  it.  I  certainly  cannot  but  desire  that  it  may 
prevail.  If  any  thing  is  to  do  it,  I  believe  this  is  the 
power  that  is  to  restore,  and  in  a  still  nobler  form,  the 
ancient  manners  of  which  you  speak.  It  is  from  Chris 
tianity  that  in  my  heart  I  believe  the  youthful  blood 
is  to  come,  that  being  poured  into  the  veins  of  this  dy 
ing  state,  shall  reproduce  the  very  vigor  and  freshness 
of  its  early  age.  Rome,  my  mother,  is  now  but  a  life 
less  trunk  —  a  dead  and  loathsome  corpse  a  n^w  and 
warmer  current  must  be  infused,  or  it  will  roon  crumble 
into  dust.' 


AURELIAN.  21 

1 1  grieve,  Lucius,  to  see  you  lost  to  the  good  cause  of 
your  country,  and  to  the  altars  of  her  gods ;  for  who  can 
love  his  country,  and  deny  the  gods  who  made  and  pre 
serve  it  ?  But  then  who  am  I  to  condemn  ?  When  I 
see  the  gods  to  hurl  thunderbolts  upon  those  who  flout 
them,  it  will  be  time  enough  for  us  mortals  to  assume 
the  robes  of  judgment.  I  will  hope  that  farther  thought 
will  reclaim  you  from  your  truant  wanderings.' 

Do  not  imagine,  Fausta,  that  conversations  like  this 
have  the  least  effect  to  chill  the  warm  affections  of  Portia 
towards  us  both.  Nature  has  placed  within  her  bosom 
a  central  heat,  that  not  only  preserves  her  own  warmth, 
but  diffuses  itself  upon  all  who  approach  her,  and  chan 
ges  their  affections  into  a  likeness  of  her  own.  We 
speak  of  our  differing  faiths,  but  love  none  the  less. 
When  she  had  paused  a  moment  after  uttering  the  last 
words,  she  again  turned  her  eye  upon  the  statue  of  Christ, 
and,  captivated  by  its  wondrous  power,  she  dwelt  upon 
it  in  a  manner  that  showed  her  sensibilities  to  be  great 
ly  moved.  At  length  she  suddenly  started,  saying  : 

4  If  truth  and  beauty  were  the  same  thing,  one  need  but 
to  look  upon  this  and  be  a  believer.  But  as  in  the  hu 
man  form  and  face,  beauty  is  often  but  a  lie,  covering 
over  a  worse  deformity  than  any  that  ever  disfigures  the 
body,  so  it  may  be  here.  I  cannot  but  admire  and  love 
the  beauty  ;  it  will  be  wise,  I  suppose,  not  to  look  far- 
thei,  lest  the  dream  be  dissolved.' 

'  Be  not  afraid  of  that,  dearest  mother  ;  I  can  warrant 
you  against  disappointment.  If  in  that  marble  you 
have  the  form  of  the  outward  beauty,  here,  in  this  roll, 
you  will  find  the  inward  moral  beauty  of  which  it  is  the 
shrine,' 


22  AURELIAN. 

4  Nay,  nay,  Lucius,  I  look  no  farther  or  deeper.  1 
have  seen  too  much  already.' 

With  these  words,  she  arose,  and  we  accompanied  hei 
to  the  portico,  where  we  walked,  and  sat,  and  talked  c  > 
you,  and  Calpurnius,  and  Gracchus. 

Thus  you  perceive  I  have  told  you  first  of  what  chiefly 
interests  myself:  now  let  me  turn  to  what  at  this  mo 
ment  more  than  everything  else  fills  all  heads  in  Rome 
—  and  that  is  Livia.  She  is  the  object  of  universal  at 
tention,  the  centre  of  all  honor.  It  is  indescribable,  the 
sensation  her  beauty,  and  now  added  to  that,  her  mag 
nificence,  have  made  and  still  make  in  Rome.  Her 
imperial  bearing  would  satisfy  even  you  ;  and  the  splen 
dor  of  her  state  exceeds  all  that  has  been  known  before. 
This  you  may  be  surprised  to  hear,  knowing  what  the 
principles  of  Aurelian  have  been  in  such  things ;  how 
strict  he  has  been  himself  in  a  more  than  republican 
simplicity,  and  how  severe  upon  the  extravagances  and 
luxuries  of  others,  in  the  laws  he  has  enacted.  You 
must  remember  his  prohibition  of  the  use  of  cloth  of  gold 
and  of  silk,  among  other  things  —  foolish  laws  to  be  sud 
denly  promulged  among  so  vain  and  corrupt  a  popula 
tion  as  this  of  Rome.  They  have  been  the  ridicule  and 
scorn  of  rich  and  poor  alike ;  of  the  rich,  because  they 
are  so  easily  violated  in  private,  or  evaded  by  the  substi 
tution  of  one  article  for  another  ;  of  the  poor,  because, 
being  slaves  in  spirit,  they  take  a  slave's  pride  in  the 
trappings  and  state  of  their  masters  •  they  love  net  only 
to  feel  but  to  see  their  superiority  But  since  the  east 
ern  expedition,  the  reduction  of  Paimyra,  and  the  intro 
duction  from  abroad  of  the  vast  flood  of  foreign  luxuries 
which  has  inundated  Rome  and  Italy  itself  the  princi 


AURELIAN.  23 

pies  and  the  habits  of  the  Emperor  have  undergone  a 
mighty  revolution.  Now,  the  richness  and  costliness  of 
his  dress,  the  splendor  of  his  equipage,  the  gorgeousness 
of  his  furniture,  cannot  he  made  to  come  up  to  the  height 
of  his  extravagant  desires.  The  silk  which  he  once 
denied  to  the  former  Empress  for  a  dress,  now,  variously 
embroidered,  and  of  every  dye,  either  hangs  in  ample 
folds  upon  the  walls,  or  canopies  the  royal  bed,  or  lends 
its  beauty  to  the  cushioned  seats  which  everywhere,  in 
every  form  of  luxurious  ease,  invite  to  repose.  Gold, 
too,  once  prohibited,  but  now  wrought  into  every  kind 
of  cloth,  or  solid  in  shape  of  dish,  or  vase,  or  cup,  or 
spread  in  sheets  over  the  very  walls  and  ceilings  of  the 
palace,  has  rendered  the  traditions  of  Nero's  house  of 
gold  no  longer  fabulous.  The  customs  of  the  eastern 
monarchs  have  also  elevated  or  perverted  the  ambition 
of  Aurelian,  and  one  after  another  are  taking  place  ol 
former  usages.  He  is  every  day  more  difficult  of  ac 
cess,  and  surrounds  himself,  his  palaces,  and  apartments, 
by  guards  and  officers  of  state.  In  all  this,  as  you  will 
readily  believe,  Livia  is  his  willing  companion,  or 
rather,  I  should  perhaps  say,  his  prompting  and  ruling 
genius.  As  without  the  world  at  her  feet,  it  would  be 
impossible  for  her  insane  pride  to  be  fully  satisfied,  so  in 
all  that  is  now  done,  the  Emperor  still  lags  behind  her 
will.  But  beautifully,  it  can  be  denied  by  none,  does 
she  become  her  greatness,  and  gives  more  lustre  than 
she  receives,  to  all  around  her.  Gold  is  doubly  gold  in 
her  presence  ;  and  even  the  diamond  sparkles  with  a 
new  brilliancy  on  her  brow  or  sandal. 

Livia  is,  of  all  women  I  have  ever  seen  or  known; 
made  for  a  Roman  empress.     I  used  to  think  so  when 


24  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

in  Palmyra,  and  I  saw  her,  so  often  as  I  did,  assuming 
the  port  and  air  of  imaginary  sovereignty.  And  now 
that  I  behold  her  filling  the  very  place  for  which  by 
nature  she  is  most  perfectly  fitted,  I  cannot  but  confess 
that  she  surpasses  all  I  had  imagined,  in  the  genius  she 
displays  for  her  great  sphere,  both  as  wife  of  Aurelian, 
and  sovereign  of  Rome.  Her  intellect  shows  itself 
stronger  than  I  had  believed  it  to  be,  and  secures  for  her 
the  homage  of  a  class  who  could  not  be  subdued  by  her 
magnificence,  extraordinary  as  it  is.  They  are  capti 
vated  by  the  brilliancy  of  her  wit,  set  off  by  her  unequal 
led  beauty,  and,  for  a  woman,  by  her  rare  attainments, 
and  hover  around  her  as  some  superior  being.  Then 
for  the  mass  of  our  rich  and  noble,  her  ostentatious  state 
and  imperial  presence  are  all  that  they  can  appreciate, 
all  they  ask  for,  and  more  than  enough  to  enslave  them, 
not  only  to  her  reasonable  will,  but  to  all  her  most  ty 
rannical  and  whimsical  caprices.  She  understands  al 
ready  perfectly  the  people  she  is  among  ;  and  through 
her  quick  sagacity,  has  already  risen  to  a  power  greater 
than  woman  ever  before  held  in  Rome. 

We  see  her  often  —  often  as  ever — and  when  we 
see  her,  enjoy  her  as  well.  For  with  all  her  ambition  of 
petty  rule  and  imposing  state,  she  possesses  and  retains 
a  goodness  of  heart,  that  endears  her  to  all,  in  spite  of 
her  follies.  Julia  is  still  her  beloved  Julia,  and  I  her 
good  friend  Lucius  ;  but  it  is  to  Zenobia  that  she  attach 
es  herself  most  closely  ;  and  from  her  she  draws  most 
largely  of  the  kind  of  inspiration  which  she  covets. 
It  is  to  her,  too,  I  believe,  that  we  may  trace  much  of 
the  admirable  wisdom  —  for  such  it  must  be  allowed  tc 
be  —  with  which  Livia  adorns  the  throne  of  the  world. 


A  IT  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  26 

Her  residence,  when  Aurelian  is  absent  from  the  city, 
is  near  us  in  the  palace  upon  the  Palatine  ;  but  when 
he  is  here,  it  is  more  remote,  in  the  enchanted  gardens 
of  Sallust.  This  spot,  first  ennobled  by  the  presence  of 
the  great  historian,  to  whose  hand  and  eye  of  taste  the 
chief  beauties  of  the  scene  are  to  be  traced,  then  afterward 
selected  by  Vespasian  as  an  imperial  villa,  is  now  lately 
become  the  chosen  retreat  of  Aurelian.  It  has  indeed 
lost  a  part  of  its  charms  since  it  has  been  embraced,  by  the 
extension  of  the  new  walls,  within  the  limits  of  the  city  ; 
but  enough  remain  to  justify  abundantly  the  preference 
of  a  line  of  emperors.  It  is  there  that  we  see  Li  via 
most  as  we  have  been  used  to  do,  and  where  are  forcibly 
brought  to  our  minds  the  hours  passed  by  us  so  instruc 
tively  in  the  gardens  of  Zenobia.  Often  Aurehan  is  of 
our  company,  and  throws  the  light  of  his  strong  intellect 
upon  whatever  subject  it  is  we  discuss.  He  cannot, 
however,  on  such  occasions,  thoroughly  tame  to  the  tone 
of  gentle  society,  his  imperious  and  almost  rude  nature. 
The  peasant  of  Pannonia  will  sometimes  break  through, 
and  usurp  the  place  of  emperor  ;  but  it  is  only  for  a 
moment  ;  for  it  is  pleasing  to  note  how  the  presence  of 
Livia  quickly  restores  him  to  himself;  when,  with  more 
grace  than  one  would  look  for,  he  acknowledges  his 
fault,  ascribing  it  sportively  to  the  fogs  of  the  German 
marshes.  It  amuses  us  to  observe  the  power  which  the 
polished  manners  and  courtly  ways  of  Livia  exercise 
over  Aurelian,  whose  ambition  seems  now  as  violently 
bent  upon  subduing  the  world  by  the  displays  of  taste, 
grace,  and  magnificence,  as  it  once  was  to  do  it  —  and 
is  still  indeed  —  by  force  of  arms.  Having  astonished 
3 


2t>  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

mankind  in  one  way,  he  would  astonish  them  again  in 
quite  another  ;  and  to  this  later  task  his  whole  nature  is 
consecrated  with  as  entire  a  devotion  as  ever  it  was  tc 
the  other.  Livia  is  in  all  these  things  his  model  and 
guide  ;  and  never  did  soldier  learn  to  catch,  from  the 
least  motion  or  sign  of  the  general,  his  will,  than  does 
he,  to  the  same  end,  study  the  countenance  and  the 
voice  of  the  Empress.  Yet  is  there,  as  you  will  believe; 
knowing  the  character  of  Aurelian  as  well  as  you  do, 
nothing  mean  nor  servile  in  this.  He  is  ever  himself, 
and  heneath  this  transparent  surface,  artificially  as 
sumed,  you  behold,  feature  for  feature,  the  lineaments 
of  the  fierce  soldier  glaring  forth  in  all  their  native  wild- 
ness  and  ferocity.  Yet  we  are  happy  that  there  exists 
any  charm  potent  enough  to  calm,  but  for  hours  or  days, 
a  nature  so  stern  and  cruel  as  to  cause  perpetual  fears 
for  the  violences  in  which  at  any  moment  it  may  break 
out.  The  late  slaughter  in  the  very  streets  of  Rome, 
when  the  Coelian  ran  with  the  blood  of  fifteen  thousand 
Romans,  butchered  within  sight  of  their  own  homes, 
with  the  succeeding  executions,  naturally  fill  us  with 
apprehensions  for  the  future.  We  call  him  generous, 
and  magnanimous,  and  so  he  is,  compared  with  former 
tyrants  who  have  polluted  the  throne  —  Tiberius,  Corn- 
modus,  or  Maximin  ;  but  what  title  has  he  to  that  praise, 
when  tried  by  the  standard  which  our  own  reason  sup 
plies  of  those  great  virtues  ?  I  confess  it  was  not  always 
so.  His  severity  was  formerly  ever  on  the  side  of  jus 
tice  ;  it  was  indignation  at  crime  or  baseness  which 
sometimes  brought  upon  him  the  charge  of  cruelty  — 
never  the  wanton  infliction  of  suffering  and  death.  But 
it  certainly  is  not  so  now.  A  slight  cause  now  rouses 


A  TT  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  27 

his  sleeping  passions  to  a  sudden  fury,  often  fatal  to  the 
first  object  that  comes  in  his  way.  But  enough  of  this, 

Do  not  forget  to  tell  me  again  of  the  Old  Hermit  of 
the  mountains,  and  that  you  have  visited  him —  if  in 
deed  he  be  yet  among  the  living. 

Even  with  your  lively  imagination,  Fausta,  you  can 
hardly  form  an  idea  of  the  sensation  which  ray  open 
assertion  of  Christian  principles  and  assumption  of  the 
Christian  name  has  made  in  Rome.  I  intended  when 
I  sat  down  to  speak  only  of  this,  but  see  how  I  have 
been  led  away !  My  letters  will  be  for  the  most  part 
confined,  I  fear,  to  the  subjects  which  engross  both  my 
self  and  Julia  most  —  such  as  relate  to  the  condition  and 
prospects  of  the  new  religion,  and  to  the  part  which  we 
take  in  the  revolution  which  is  going  on.  Not  that  I 
shall  be  speechless  upon  other  and  inferior  topics,  but 
that  upon  this  of  Christianity  I  shall  be  garrulous  and 
overflowing.  I  believe  that  in  doing  this,  I  shall  consult 
your  preferences  as  well  as  my  own.  I  know  you  to  be 
desirous  of  principles  better  than  any  which  as  yet  you 
have  been  able  to  discover,  and  that  you  will  gladly  learn 
whatever  I  may  have  it  in  my  power  to  teach  you  from 
this  quarter.  But  all  the  teaching  I  shall  attempt  will 
be  to  narrate  events  as  they  occur,  and  state  facts  as  they 
arise,  and  leave  them  to  make  what  impression  they 
may. 

When  I  just  spoke  of  the  sensation  which  my  adop 
tion  of  the  Christian  system  had  caused  in  Rome,  I  did 
not  mean  to  convey  any  idea  like  this,  that  it  has  been 
rare  for  the  intelligent  and  cultivated  to  attach  them 
selves  to  this  despised  religion.  On  the  contrary,  it 
would  be  true  were  I  to  say,  that  they  who  accept 


28  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

Christianity,  are  distinguished  for  their  intelligence ; 
that  estimated  as  a  class,  they  rank  far  above  the 
lowest.  It  is  not  the  dregs  of  a  people  who  become  re 
formers  of  philosophy  or  religion  ;  who  grow  dissatisfied 
with  ancient  opinions  upon  exalted  subjects,  and  search 
about  for  better,  and  adopt  them.  The  processes  in 
volved  in  this  change,  in  their  very  nature,  require  in 
telligence,  and  imply  a  character  of  more  than  common 
elevation.  It  is  neither  the  lowest  nor  the  highest  who 
commence,  and  at  first  carry  on,  a  work  like  this ;  but 
those  who  fill  the  intermediate  spaces.  The  lowest  are 
dead  as  brute  matter  to  such  interests  ;  the  highest — 
the  rich,  the  fashionable,  the  noble,  from  opposite 
causes  just  as  dead  ;  or  if  they  are  alive  at  all,  it  is 
with  the  rage  of  denunciation  and  opposition.  They 
are  supporters  of  the  decent  usages  sanctioned  by  an 
tiquity,  and  consecrated  by  the  veneration  of  a  long  line 
of  the  great  and  noble.  Whether  they  themselves  be 
lieve  in  the  system  which  they  uphold  or  not,  they  are 
equally  tenacious  of  it.  They  would  preserve  and  per 
petuate  it,  because  it  has  satisfied,  at  any  rate  bound  and 
overawed,  the  multitude  for  ages  :  and  the  experiment 
of  alteration  or  substitution  is  too  dangerous  to  be  trnd. 
Most  indeed  reason  not,  nor  philosophize  at  all,  in  the 
matter.  The  instinct  that  makes  them  Romans  in  their 
worship  of  the  power  and  greatness  of  Rome,  and  attach 
ment  to  her  civil  forms,  makes  them  Romans  in  their 
religion,  and  will  summon  them,  if  need  be,  to  die  for 
the  one  and  the  other. 

Religion  and  philosophy  have  accordingly  nothing  to 
hope  from  this  quarter.  It  is  those  whom  we  may  term 
the  substantial  middle  classes,  who,  being  least  hindered 


A  U  E  E  L  I  A  N  .  29 

by  prejudices  and  pride  of  order,  on  the  one  hand,  and 
incapacitated  by  ignorance  on  the  other,  have  ever  been 
the  earliest  and  best  friends  of  progress  in  any  sci 
ence.  Here  you  find  the  retired  scholar,  the  thoughtful 
and  independent  farmer,  the  skilful  mechanic,  the  en 
lightened  merchant,  the  curious  traveller,  the  inquisi- 
ave  philosopher  —  all  fitted,  beyond  those  of  either  ex 
treme,  for  exercising  a  sound  judgment  upon  such  ques 
tions,  and  all  more  interested  in  them.  It  is  out  of 
these  that  Christianity  has  made  its  converts.  They 
are  accordingly  worthy  of  universal  respect.  I  have 
examined  with  diligence,  and  can  say  that  there  live 
not  in  Rome  a  purer  and  more  noble  company  than  the 
Christians.  When  I  say  however  that  it  is  out  of 
these  whom  I  have  just  specified,  that  Christianity 
has  made  its  converts,  I  do  not  mean  to  say  out 
of  them  exclusively.  Some  have  joined  them  in  the 
present  age,  as  well  as  in  every  age  past,  from  the  most 
elevated  in  rank  and  power.  If  in  Nero's  palace,  and 
among  his  chief  ministers,  there  were  Christians,  if 
Domitilk,  Domitian's  niece,  was  a  Christian,  if  the  em 
peror  Philip  was  a  Christian,  so  now  a  few  of  the  same 
rank  may  be  counted,  who  openly,  and  more  who  secretly, 
profess  this  religion.  But  they  are  very  few.  So  that 
you  will  not  wonder  that  when  the  head  of  the  ancient 
and  honorable  house  of  the  Pisos,  the  friend  of  Aurelian, 
and  allied  to  the  royal  family  of  Palmyra,  declared  him 
self  to  be  of  this  persuasion,  no  little  commotion  was 
observable  in  Rome  —  not  so  much  among  the  Chris 
tians  as  among  the  patricians,  among  the  nobility, 
m  the  court  and  palace  of  Aurelian.  The  love  of  many 

3*  VOL.  I. 


30  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

has  grown  cold,  and  the  outward  tokens  of  respect  are 
withheld.  Brows  darkened  by  the  malignant  passions 
of  the  bigot  are  bent  upon  me  as  I  pass  along  the  streets, 
and  inquiries,  full  of  scornful  irony,  are  made  after  the 
welfare  of  my  new  friends.  The  Emperor  changes  not 
his  carriage  toward  me,  nor,  I  believe,  his  feelings.  I 
think  he  is  too  tolerant  of  opinion,  too  much  a  man  of 
the  world,  to  desire  to  curb  and  restrain  the  liberty  of 
his  friends  in  the  quarter  of  philosophy  and  religion.  I 
know  indeed  on  the  other  hand,  that  he  is  religious  in 
his  way,  to  the  extreme  of  superstition,  but  I  have  ob 
served  no  tokens  as  yet  of  any  purpose  or  wish  to  inter 
fere  with  the  belief  or  worship  of  others.  He  seems 
like  one  who,  if  he  may  indulge  his  own  feelings  in  his 
own  way,  is  not  unwilling  to  concede  to  others  the  same 
freedom. 

As  I  was  writing  these  last  sentences,  I  became  con 
scious  of  a  voice  muttering  in  low  tones,  as  if  discours 
ing  with  itself,  and  upon  no  very  agreeable  theme.  I 
heeded  it  not  at  first,  but  wrote  on.  At  length  it  ran 
thus,  and  I  was  compelled  to  give  ear  : 

Patience,  patience  —  greatest  of  virtues,  yet  hardest 
of  practice  !  To  wait  indeed  for  a  kingdom  were  some 
thing,  though  it  were  upon  a  bed  of  thorns  ;  to  suffer 
for  the  honor  of  truth,  were  more ;  more  in  itself,  and 
more  in  its  rewards.  But  patience,  when  a  fly  stings, 
or  a  fool  speaks,  or  worse,  when  time  is  wasted  and  lost, 
is  —  the  virtue  in  this  case  mayhap  is  greater  after  all- 
out  it  is  harder,  I  say,  of  practice  —  that  is  what  I  say  — 
yet,  for  that  very  reason,  greater !  By  Hercules  !  I 
believe  it  is  so.  So  that  while  I  wait  here,  my  virtue  of 


AUREL'IAN.  3l 

patience  is  greater  than  that  of  these  accursed  Jews. 
Patience  then,  I  say,  patience  ! ' 

'  What  in  the  name  of  all  antiquity,'  I  exclaimed, 
turning  round  as  the  voice  ceased,  *  is  this  flood  of  phi 
losophy  for  ?  Wherein  have  I  offended  ? ' 

*  Offended  ! '  cried  the  other ;  *  Nay,  noble  master, 
not  offended.  According  to  my  conclusion,  I  owe  th.ee 
thanks ;  for  while  I  have  stood  waiting  to  catch  thy  eye 
and  ear,  my  virtue  has  shot  up  like  a  wild  vine.  The 
soul  has  grown.  I  ought  therefore  rather  to  crave  for 
giveness  of  thee,  for  breaking  up  a  study  which  was  so 
profound,  and  doubtless  so  agreeable  too.' 

'  Agreeable  you  will  certainly  grant  it,  when  I  tell  you 
I  was  writing  to  your  ancient  friend  and  pupil,  the  daugh 
ter  of  Gracchus.' 

1  Ah,  the  blessings  of  all  the  gods  upon  her.  My 
dreams  are  still  of  her.  I  loved  her,  Piso,  as  I  never 
loved  beside,  either  form,  shadow,  or  substance.  I  used 
to  think  that  I  loved  her  as  a  parent  loves  his  child  —  a 
brother  his  sister ;  but  it  was  more  than  that.  Aristotle 
is  not  so  dear  to  me  as  she.  Bear  witness  these  tears  ! 
I  would  now,  bent  as  I  am,  travel  the  Syrian  deserts  to 
see  her ;  especially  if  I  might  hear  from  her  mouth  a 
chapter  of  the  great  philosopher.  Never  did  Greek,  al 
ways  music,  seem  so  like  somewhat  more  divinely  har 
monious  than  anything  of  earth,  as  when  it  came  through 
her  lips.  Yet,  by  Hercules  !  she  played  me  many  a 
mad  prank  !  'Twould  have  been  better  for  her  and  for 
letters,  had  I  chastised  her  more,  and  loved  her  less. 
Condescend,  noble  Piso,  to  name  me  to  her,  and  entreat 
her  not  to  fall  away  from  her  Greek.  That  will  be  a 
consolation  under  all  losses,  and  all  sorrows.' 


52  AURELIAN. 

'  I  will  not  fail  to  do  so.  And  now  in  \\hat  is  my 
opinion  wanted  ? ' 

4  It  is  simply  in  the  matter  of  these  volumes,  where 
thou  wilt  have  them  bestowed.  The  cases  here, by  their 
superior  adorning,  seem  designed  for  the  great  master 
of  all,  and  his  disciples  ;  and  it  is  here  I  would  fain 
order  them.  Would  it  so  please  thee  ? ' 

4  No,  Solon,  not  here.  That  is  designed  for  a  very 
different  Master  and  his  disciples.' 

Solon  looked  at  me  as  if  unwilling  10  credit  his  ears, 
hoping  that  something  would  be  added  more  honorable 
to  the  affronted  philosopher  and  myself.  But  nothing 
coming,  he  said  : 

'I  penetrate  — I  apprehend.  This,  the  very  centre 
and  post  of  honor,  thou  reserves!  for  the  atheistical  Jews. 
The  gods  help  us  !  I  doubt  I  should  straight  resign  my 
office.  Well,  well  ;  let  us  hope  that  the  increase  of 
years  will  bring  an  increase  of  wisdom.  We  cannot 
look  for  fruit  an  a  sapling.  Youth  seeks  novelty.  But 
the  gods  be  thanked  !  Youth  lasts  not  long,  but  is  a 
fault  daily  corrected  ;  else  the  world  were  at  a  bad 
pass.  Rome  is  not  fallen,  nor  the  fame  of  the  Stagyrite 
hurt  for  this.  But  'tis  grievous  to  behold  ! ' 

So  murmuring,  as  he  retreated  to  the  farther  part  of 
the  library,  with  his  bundle  of  rolls  under  his  arm,  he 
a^ain  busied  himself  in  the  labors  of  his  office. 

O 

I  see,  Fausta,  the  delight  that  sparkles  in  your  eye 
and  breaks  over  your  countenance,  as  you  learn  that 
Solon,  the  incomparable  Solon,  is  one  of  my  household. 
No  one  whom  I  could  think  of,  appeared  so  well  suited 
o  my  wants  as  librarian,  as  Solon,  and  I  can  by  no 
means  convey  to  you  an  idea  of  the  satisfaction  with 


AU  RE  LIAN. 


33 


which  he  hailed  my  offer;  and  abandoning  the  rod  and 
the  brass  tablets,  betook  himself  to  a  labor  which  would 
yield  him  so  much  more  leisure  for  the  perusal  of  his 
favorite  authors,  and  the  pursuit  of  his  favorite  studies. 
He  is  already  deep  in  the  question,  '  whether  the  walls 
of  Troy  were  accommodated  with  thirty-three  or  thirty- 
nine  gales,'  and  also  in  this,  '  what  was  the  method  of 
construction  adopted  in  the  case  of  the  wooden  horse, 
and  what  was  its  capacity  ?'  Of  his  progress  in  these 
matters,  I  will  duly  inform  you. 

But  I  weary  your  patience.     Farewell. 

Piso,  alluding  in  this  letter  to  the  slaughter  on  the 
Ccelian  Hill,  which  happened  not  long  before  it  was 
written,  I  will  add  here  that  whatever  color  it  may  have 
pleased  Aurelian  to  give  to  that  affair  —  as  if  it  were 
occasioned  by  a  dishonest  debasement  of  the  coin  by  the 
directors  of  the  mint  —  there  is  now  no  doubt,  on  the 
part  of  any  who  are  familiar  with  the  history  of  that  pe 
riod,  that  the  difficulty  originated  in  a  much  deeper  and 
more  formidable  cause,  well  known  to  Aurelian  himself, 
but  not  spoken  of  by  him,  in  alluding  to  the  event.  It 
is  certain,  then,  that  the  civil  war  which  then  befel,  for 
such  it  was,  was  in  truth  the  breaking  out  of  a  conspir 
acy  on  the  part  of  the  nobles  to  displace  Aurelian  —  '  a 
German  peasant,'  as  they  scornfully  designated  him  — 
and  set  one  of  their  own  order  upon  the  throne.  They 
had  already  bought  over  the  chief  manager  of  the  public 
mint — -a  slave  and  favorite  of  Aurelian  —  and  had  en 
gaged  him  in  creating,  to  serve  the  purposes  which  they 
had  in  view,  an  immense  issue  of  spurious  coin.  This 
they  had  used  too  liberally,  in  effecting  some  of  the  pre- 


34  AURELIAN. 

liminary  objects  of  their  movement.  It  was  suspected, 
tried,  proved  to  be  false,  and  traced  to  its  authors.  Be 
fore  they  were  fully  prepared,  the  conspirators  were 
obliged  to  take  to  their  arms,  as  the  only  way  in  which 
to  save  themselves  from  the  executioner.  The  contest 
was  one  of  the  bloodiest  ever  known  within  the  walls  of 
the  city.  It  was  Aurelian,  with  a  few  legions  of  his 
army,  and  the  people  —  always  of  his  part — against 
the  wealth  and  the  power  of  the  nobility,  and  their  paid 
adherents.  In  one  day,  and  in  one  battle,  as  it  may  be 
termed,  fifteen  thousand  soldiers  and  citizens  were  slain 
in  the  streets  of  the  capital.  Truly  does  Piso  say,  the 
streets  of  the  Coelian  ran  blood.  I  happily  was  within 
the  walls  of  the  queen's  palace  at  Tibur  ;  but  well  do  I 
remember  the  horror  of  the  time  —  especially  the  days 
succeeding  the  battle,  when  the  vengeance  of  the  en 
raged  conqueror  fell  upon  the  noblest  families  of  Rome, 
and  the  axe  of  the  executioner  was  blunted  and  broken 
with  the  savage  work  which  it  did. 

No  one  has  written  of  Aurelian  and  his  reign,  who 
has  not  applauded  him  for  the  defence  which  he  made 
of  his  throne  and  crown,  when  traitorously  assailed 
within  the  very  walls  of  the  capital  ;  but  all  unite  also 
in  condemning  that  fierce  spirit  of  revenge,  which,  after 
the  contest  was  over  and  his  power  secure,  by  confisca 
tion,  banishment,  torture  and  death,  involved  in  ruin  so 
many  whom  a  different  treatment  would  have  converted 
into  friends.  But  Aurelian  was  by  nature  a  tyrant  ;  it 
was  accident  whenever  he  was  otherwise.  If  affairs 
moved  on  smoothly,  he  was  the  just  or  magnanimous 
prince  ;  if  disturbed  arid  perplexed,  and  his  will  crossed, 
be  was  the  imperious  and  vindictive  tyrant. 


AURELIAN.  *& 


LETTER   II. 

FROM     P1SO     TO     FAUSTA. 

You  need  not,  dear  Fausta,  concern  yourself  on  oui 
behalf.  I  cannot  think  that  your  apprehensions  will  be 
realized.  Rome  never  was  more  calm  than  now,  nor 
apparently  has  there  ever  a  better  temper  possessed  its 
people.  The  number  of  those  who  are  sufficiently  en 
lightened  to  know  that  the  mind  ought  not  to  be  in  bon 
dage  to  man,  but  be  held  answerable  to  God  alone  for 
its  thoughts  and  opinions,  is  becoming  too  great  for  the 
violences  and  cruelties  of  former  ages  to  be  again  put 
in  practice  against  us.  And  Aurelian,  although  stern 
in  his  nature,  and  superstitious  beyond  others,  will  not, 
I  am  persuaded,  lend  himself  either  to  priests  or  people 
to  annoy  us.  If  no  principle  of  humanity  prevented 
him,  nor  generosity  of  sentiment,  he  would  be  restrain 
ed,  I  think,  by  his  attachments  to  so  many  who  bear  the 
hated  name. 

And  this  opinion  I  maintain,  notwithstanding  a  recent 
act  on  the  part  of  the  Emperor,  which  some  construe  into 
the  expression  of  unfavorable  sentiments  toward  us.  I 
allude  to  the  appointment  of  Pronto,  Nigridius  Pronto, 
to  be  chief  priest  of  the  temple  of  the  Sun,  which  has 
these  several  years  been  buildir,g,  and  is  now  just  com 
pleted.  This  man  signalized  himself,  both  under  Decius 
arid  Valerian,  for  his  bitter  hatred  of  the  Christians,  and 
bis  untiring  zeal  in  the  work  of  their  destruction.  The 


36  *  U  K  E  L  I  A  N  . 

tales  which  are  told  of  his  ferocious  barbarity,  would  be 
incredible,  did  we  not  know  so  well  what  the  hard  Ro 
man  heart  is  capable  of.  It  is  reported  of  him,  that  he 
informed  against  his  own  sisters,  who  had  embraced  the 
Christian  faith,  was  with  those  who  hunted  them  with 
blood-hounds  from  their  place  of  concealment,  and  stood 
by,  a  witness  and  an  executioner,  while  they  were  torn 
limb  from  limb,  and  devoured.  I  doubt  not  the  truth  of 
the  story.  And  from  that  day  to  this,  has  he  made  it 
his  sole  office  to  see  that  all  the  laws  that  bear  hard 
upon  the  sect,  and  deprive  them  of  privileges  and  immu 
nities,  are  not  permitted  to  become  a  dead  letter.  It  is 
this  man,  drunk  with  blood,  whom  Aurelian  has  put  in 
chief  authority  in  his  new  temple,  and  made  him,  in 
effect,  the  head  of  religion  in  the  city.  He  is  however 
not  only  this.  He  possesses  other  traits,  which  with 
reason  might  commend  him  to  the  regard  of  the  Em 
peror.  He  is  an  accomplished  man,  of  an  ancient  family, 
and  withal  no  mean  scholar.  He  is  a  Roman,  who  for 
Rome's  honor  or  greatness,  as  he  would  on  the  one  hand 
sacrifice  father,  mother,  daughter,  so  would  he  also  him 
self.  And  Rome,  he  believes,  lives  but  in  her  religion  ; 
it  is  the  life-blood  of  the  state.  It  is  these  traits,  I  doubt 
not,  that  have  recommended  him  to  Aurelian,  rather 
than  the  others.  He  is  a  person  eminently  fitted  -for  the 
post  to  which  he  is  exalted  ;  and  you  well  know  that  it 
is  the  circumstance  of  fitness,  Aurelian  alone  considers, 
in  appointing  his  own  or  the  servants  of  the  state.  Pro- 
bus  thinks  differently.  And  although  he  sees  no  cause 
to  apprehend  immediate  violence,  confesses  his  fears 
for  the  future.  He  places  less  reliance  than  I  do  upon 
the  generosity  or  friendship  of  Aurelian.  It  is  his 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  37 

conviction  that  superstition  is  the  reigning  power  of  his 
nature,  and  will  sooner  or  later  assert  its  supremacy.  It 
may  be  so.  Probus  is  an  acute  observer,  and  occupies 
a  position  more  favorable  to  impartial  estimates,  and  the 
formation  of  a  dispassionate  judgment,  than  I. 

This  reminds  me  that  you  asked  for  news  of  Pro- 
bus,  my  '  Christian  pedagogue,'  as  you  are  wont  to 
name  him.  He  is  here,  adorning,  by  a  life  of  severe 
simplicity  and  divine  benevolence,  the  doctrine  he  has 
espoused.  He  is  a  frequent  inmate  of  our  house,  and 
Julia,  not  less  than  myself,  ever  greets  him  with  affec 
tionate  reverence,  as  both  friend  and  instructer.  He 
holds  the  chief  place  in  the  hearts  of  the  Roman  Chris 
tians  ;  for  even  those  of  the  sect  who  differ  from  him  in 
doctrine  and  in  life,  cannot  but  acknowledge  that  never 
an  apostle  presented  to  the  love  and  imitation  of  his  fol 
lowers  an  example  of  rarer  virtue.  Yet  he  is  not, 
in  the  outward  rank  which  he  holds,  at  the  head  of  the 
Christian  body.  Their  chiefs  are,  as  you  know,  the 
bishops,  and  Felix  is  Bishop  of  Rome,  a  man  every 
way  inferior  to  Probus.  But  he  has  the  i>ood  or  ill 
fortune  to  represent  more  popular  opinions,  in  matters 
both  of  doctrine  and  practice  than  the  other,  and  of 
course  easily  rides  into  the  posts  of  trust  and  honor. 
Ho  represents  those  among  the  Christians  —  for,  alas  ! 
there  are  such  among  them  —  who,  in  seeking  the 
elevation  and  extension  of  Christianity,  do  not  hesitate 
to  accommodate  both  doctrine  and  manner  to  the  preju 
dices  and  tastes  of  both  Pagan  and  Jew.  They  seek 
converts,  not  by  raising  them  to  the  height  of  Christian 
principle  and  virtue,  but  by  lowering  these  to  the  level 
4  VOL.  i. 


88  AURELIA  N. 

of  their  grosser  con:eptions.  Thus  it  is  easy  to  see 
that  in  the  hands  of  such  professors,  the  Christian  doc 
trine  is  undergoing  a  rapid  process  of  deterioration. 
Probus,  and  those  who  are  on  his  part,  see  this,  are 
alarmed,  and  oppose  it  ;  but  numbers  are  against  them, 
and  consequently  power  and  authority.  Already, 
strange  as  it  may  seem,  when  you  compare  such  things 
with  the  institution  of  Christianity,  as  effected  by  its 
founder,  do  the  bishops,  both  in  Rome  and  in  the 
provinces,  begin  to  assume  the  state  and  bearing  of  no 
bility.  Such  is  the  number  and  wealth  of  the  Chris 
tian  community,  that  the  treasuries  of  the  churches  are 
full  ;  and  from  this  source  the  pride  and  ambition  of 
their  rulers  are  luxuriously  fed.  If,  as  you  walk  through 
the  street  which  crosses  from  the  Quirinal  to  the  Arch 
of  Titus,  lined  with  private  dwellings  of  unusual  mag 
nificence,  you  ask  whose  is  that  with  a  portico,  that  for 
beauty  and  costliness  rather  exceeds  the  rest,  you  are 
told,  *  That  is  the  dwelling  of  Felix,  the  Bishop  of 
Rome  ;'  and  if  it  chance  to  be  a  Christian  who  answers 
the  question,  it  is  done  with  ill-suppressed  pride  or  shame, 
according  to  the  party  to  which  he  belongs.  This 
Felix  is  the  very  man,  through  the  easiness  of  his  dispo 
sitions,  and  his  proneness  to  all  the  arts  of  self-indul 
gence,  and  the  imposing  graciousness  of  his  carriage,  to 
keep  the  favor  of  the  people,  and  at  the  same  time  sink 
them,  without  suspicion  on  their  part,  lower  and  lower 
toward  the  sensual  supertitions,  from  which,  through  so 
much  suffering  and  by  so  many  labors,  they  have  but 
just  escaped,  and  accomplish  an  adulterous  and  fatal 
union  between  Christianity  and  Paganism  ;  by  which 
indeed  Paganism  may  be  to  some  extent  pu  -iiied  and  ex- 


A  IT  R  E  L  I  A  N. 


ulted,  but  Christianity  defiled  and  depressed.  For  Chris 
tianity,  in  its  essence,  is  that  which  beckons  and  urges 
onward,  not  to  excellence  only,  but  to  perfection.  Of 
course  its  march  is  always  in  advance  of  the  present. 
By  such  union  with  Paganism  then,  or  Judaism,  its  es 
sential  characteristic  will  disappear  ;  Christianity  will, 
in  effect,  perish.  You  may  suppose,  accordingly,  that 
Probus,  and  others  who  with  him  rate  Christianity  so 
differently,  look  on  with  anxiety  upon  this  downward 
tendency,  and  with  mingled  sorrow  and  indignation 
upon  those  who  aid  it  —  oftentimes  actuated,  as  is  noto 
rious,  by  most  corrupt  motives. 


I  am  just  returned  from  the  shop  of  the  learned  Pub- 
lius,  where  I  met  Probus,  and  others  of  many  ways  of 
thinking.  You  Will  gather  from  what  occurred,  better 
than  from  anything  else  I  could  say,  what  occupies  the 
thoughts  of  our  citizens,  and  how  they  stand  affected. 

I  called  to  Milo  to  accompany  me,  and  to  take  with 
him  a  basket  in  which  to  bring  back  books,  which  it 
was  my  intention  to  purchase. 

I 1  trust,  noble  master,'  said  he,  '  that  I  am  to  bear 
back  no  more  Christian  books.' 

•Why  so?' 

*  Because  the  priests  say  that  they  have  magical  pow 
ers  over  all  who  read  them,  or  so  much  as  handle 
them  ;  that  a  curse  sticks  wherever  they  are  or  have 
been.  I  have  heard  of  those  who  have  withered  away 
to  a  mere  wisp  ;  of  others  who  have  suddenly  caught  on 
fire,  and  vanished  in  flame  and  smoke  ;  and  of  others, 
whose  blood  has  stood  still,  frozen,  or  run  out  from  aU 


40  A  TJ  R  U  L  I  A  N  . 

parts  of  the  body,  changed  to  the  very  color  of  your 
shoe,  at  their  bare  touch.  Who  should  doubt  that  it  is 
so,  when  the  very  boys  in  the  streets  have  it,  and  it  is 
taught  in  the  temples  ?  I  would  rather  Solon,  noble 
master,  went  in  my  stead.  Mayhap  his  learning  would 
protect  him.' 

I,  laughing,  bade  him  come  on.  '  You  are  not  with 
ered  away  yet,  Milo,  nor  has  your  blood  run  out  ;  yet 
you  have  borne  many  a  package  of  these  horrible  books. 
Surely  the  gods  befriend  you.' 

'  I  were  else  long  since  with  the  Scipios.'  After  a 
pause  of  some  length,  he  added,  as  he  reluctantly,  and 
with  features  of  increased  paleness,  followed  in  my  steps  : 

4  I  would,  my  master,  that  you  might  be  wrought 
with  to  leave  these  ways.  I  sleep  not  for  thinking  of 
your  danger.  Never,  when  it  was  my  sad  mischance 
to  depart  from  the  deserted  palace  of  the  great  Gallien- 
us,  did  I  look  to  know  one  to  esteem  like  him.  But  it 
is  the  truth  when  I  affirm,  that  I  place  Piso  before 
Gallienus,  and  the  lady  Julia  before  the  lady  Salonina. 
Shall  I  tell  you  a  secret  ?' 

*  I  will  hear  it,  if  it  is  not  to  be  kept.' 

1  It  is  for  you  to  do  with  it  as  shall  please  you. 
am  the  bosom  friend,  you  may  know,  of  Curio,  the  fa 
vorite  slave  of  Pronto  — ' 

'Must  I  not  publish  it  ?' 

*  Nay,  that  is  not  the  matter,  though   it  is  somewha 
to  boast  of.     There   is  not  Curio's  fellow  in  all  Rome. 
But  that  may  pass.     Curio  then,  as  I  was   with  him  at 
the  new  temple,  while  he  was  busied  in  some  of  the  last 
offices  before  the  dedication,  among  other  things,  said  : 
*  Is  not  thy  master  Piso  of  these  Christians  ? ' 


AU  R  ELI  A  N.  41 

said  I,  'he  is;  and  were  they  all  such  as  he,  there  could 
be  no  truth  in  what  is  said  of  them.'  '  Ah  !'  he  replied, 
1  there  are  few  among  the  accursed  tribe  like  him.  He 
has  but  just  joined  them  ;  that's  the  reason  he  is  better 
than  the  rest.  Wait  awhile,  and  see  what  he  will  be 
come.  They  are  all  alike  in  the  end,  cursers,  and  des- 
pisers,  and  disbelievers,  of  the  blessed  gods.  But  lions 
have  teeth,  tigers  have  claws,  knives  cut,  fire  burns,  wa 
ter  drowns.'  There  he  stopped.  '  That's  wise,'  I  said, 
'  who  could  have  known  it  ?'  *  Think  you,'  he  rejoined, 
4  Piso  knows  it  ?  If  not,  let  him  ask  Fronto.  Let  me 
advise  thee,'  he  added,  in  a  whisper,  though  in  all  the 
temple  there  were  none  beside  us,  *  let  me  advise  thee, 
as  thy  friend,  to  avoid  dangerous  company.  Look  to 
thyself;  the  Christians  are  not  safe.'  *  How  say  you,' 
I  replied,  '  not  safe  ?  What  and  whom  are  they  to 

fear?     Gallienus    vexed   them  not.     Is  Aurelian ' 

*  Say  no  more,'  he  replied,  interrupting  me,  '  and  name 
not  what  I  have  dropped,  for  your  life.  Fronto's  ears 
are  more  than  the  eyes  of  Argus,  and  his  wrath  more 
deadly  than  the  grave.' 

1  Just  as  he  ended  these  words,  a  strong  beam  of  red 
light  shot  up  from  the  altar,  and  threw  a  horrid  glare 
over  the  whole  dark  interior.  I  confess  I  cried  out  with 
affright.  Curio  started  at  first,  but  quickly  recovered, 
saying  that  it  was  but  the  sudden  flaming  up  of  the  fire 
that  had  been  burning  on  the  altar,  but  which  shortly 
before  he  had  quenched.  '  It  is,'  said  he,  *  an  omen  of 
the  flames  that  are  to  be  kindled  throughout  Rome.' 
This  was  Curio's  communication.  Is  it  not  a  secret 
worth  knowing  ?  ' 

4*         VOL.  i 


42  AURELIAN. 

4  It  tells  nothing-,  Milo,  but  of  the  boiling  over  of  the 
wrath  of  the  malignant  Pronto,  which  is  always  boiling 
over.  Doubtless  I  should  fare  ill,  were  his  power  equal 
lo  his  will  to  harm  us.  But  Aurelian  is  above  him.' 

4  That  is  true  ;  and  Aurelian,  it  is  plain,  is  little  like 
Pronto.' 

'  Very  little.* 

1  But  still  I  would  that,  like  Gallienus,  thou  couldst 
only  believe  in  the  gods.  The  Christians,  so  it  is  re 
ported,  worship  and  believe  in  but  a  man,  —  a  Jew, — 
who  was  crucified  as  a  criminal,  with  thieves  and  mur 
derers.'  He  turned  upon  me  a  countenance  full  of 
unaffected  horror. 

*  Well,  Milo,  at  another  time  I  will  tell  you  what 
the  truth  about  it  is.  Here  we  are  now,  at  the  shop  of 
Publius.' 

The  shop  of  Publius  is  remarkable  for  its  extent  and 
magnificence,  if  such  a  word  may  be  applied  to  a  place 
of  traffic.  Here  resort  all  the  idlers  of  learning  and 
of  leisure,  to  turn  over  the  books,  hear  the  news,  discuss 
the  times,  and  trifle  with  the  learned  bibliopole.  As  I 
entered,  he  saluted  me  in  his  customary  manner,  and 
bade  me  '  welcome  to  his  poor  apartments,  which  for  a 
long  time,'  he  said,  *  I  had  not  honored  with  my  presence.' 

I  replied  that  two  things  had  kept  me  away  :  the  civil 
broils  in  which  the  city  had  just  been  involved,  and  the 
care  of  ordering  the  appointments  of  a  new  dwelling. 
I  had  come  now  to  commence  some  considerable  pur 
chases  for  my  vacant  shelves,  if  it  might  so  happen  tha* 
the  books  I  wanted  were  to  be  found  in  his  rooms. 

4  There  is  not,'  he  replied,  '  a  literature,  a  science,  a 
philosophy,  an  art,  or  a  religion,  whose  principal  authors 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  43 

are  not  to  he  found  upon  the  walls  of  Publius.  My 
agents  are  in  every  corner  of  the  empire,  of  the  east 
and  west,  searching  out  the  curious  and  the  rare,  the 
useful  and  the  necessary,  to  swell  the  catalogue  of  mj 
intellectual  riches.  I  believe  it  is  established,  that  in 
no  time  before  me,  as  nowhere  now,  has  there  been 
heard  of  a  private  collection  like  this  for  value  and  for 
number.' 

'  I  do  not  doubt  what  you  say,  Publius.  This  is  a 
grand  display.  Your  ranges  of  rooms  show  like  those 
of  the  Ulpian.  Yet  you  do  not  quite  equal,  I  suppose, 
Trajan's  for  number  ?' 

'  Truly  not.  But  time  maybring  it  to  pass.  What 
shall  I  show  you  ?  It  pleases  me  to  give  my  time  to 
you.  I  am  not  slow  to  guess  what  it  is  you  now,  noble 
Piso,  chiefly  covet.  And  I  think,  if  you  will  follow  me 
to  the  proper  apartment,  I  can  set  before  you  the  very 
things  you  are  in  search  of.  Here  upon  these  shelves 
are  the  Christian  writers.  Just  let  me  offer  you  this 
copy  of  Hegesippus,  one  of  your  oldest  historians,  if  I 
err  not.  And  here  are  some  beautifully  executed 
copies,  I  have  just  ordered  to  be  made,  of  the  Apologies 
of  Justin  and  Tertullian.  Here,  again,  are  Marcion 
and  Valentinus  ;  but  perhaps  they  are  not  in  esteem 
with  you.  If  I  have  heard  aright,  you  will  prefer  these 
tracts  of  Paul,  or  Artemon.  But  hold,  here  is  a  cata 
logue.  Be  pleased  to  inspect  it.' 

As  I  looked  over  the  catalogue,  I  expressed  my  satis 
faction  that  a  person  of  his  repute  was  willing  to  keep 
on  sale  works  so  generally  condemned,  and  excluded 
from  the  shops  of  most  of  his  craft. 


44  AURELIAN. 

'  I  aim,  my  dear  friend  —  most  worthy  Piso  —  to  steel 
a  midway  course  among  contending  factions.  I  am  my 
self  a  worshipper  of  the  gods  of  my  fathers.  But  I  am 
content  that  others  should  do  as  they  please  in  the  mat 
ter.  I  am  not,  however,  so  much  a  worshipper  —  in 
your  ear  —  as  a  bookseller.  That  is  my  calling.  The 
Christians  are  become  a  most  respectable  people.  They 
are  not  to  be  overlooked.  They  are,  in  my  judgment, 
the  most  intelligent  part  of  our  community.  Wasting 
none  of  their  time  at  the  baths  and  theatres,  they  have 
more  time  for  books.  And  then  their  numbers  too  ! 
They  are  not  fewer  than  seventy  thousand!  —  known 
and  counted.  But  the  number,  between  ourselves,  Piso 
of  those  who  secretly  favor  or  receive  this  doctrine,  is 
equal  to  the  other  !  My  books  go  to  houses,  ay,  and  to 
palaces,  people  dream  not  of.' 

*  I  think  your  statements  a  little  broad,'  said  a  smooth, 
silvery  voice,  close  at  our  ears.  We  started,  and  beheld 
the  Prefect  Varus  standing  at  our  side.  Publius  was 
for  a  moment  a  little  disconcerted ;  but  quickly  recover 
ed,  saying  in  his  easy  way,  '  A  fair  morning  to  you  !  I 
knew  not  that  it  behooved  me  to  be  upon  my  oath,  be 
ing  in  the  presence  of  the  Governor  of  Rome.  I  repeat, 
noble  Varus,  but  what  I  hear.  I  give  what  I  say  as  the 
current  rumor.  That  is  all  —  that  is  all.  Things  may 
not  be  so,  or  they  may  ;  it  is  not  for  me  to  say.  I  wish 
well  to  all  ;  that  is  my  creed.' 

1  In  the  public  enumerations  of  the  citizens,'  replied 
ihe  Prefect,  inclining  with  civility  to  Publius,  *  the 
Christians  have  reached  at  no  time  fifty  thousand.  As  for 
ihe  conjecture  touching  the  number  of  those  who  secretly 
embrace  this  injurious  superstition,  I  hold  it  utterly 


AURE  LI  A  N.  45 

baseless.     It  may  serve  a  dying   cause  to    repeat   such 
statements,  but  they  accord  not  with  obvious  fact.' 

'  Suspect  me  not,  Varus,'  hastily  rejoined  the  ag  tated 
Publius,  *  of  setting  forth  such  statements  with  the  pur 
pose  to  advance  the  cause  of  the  Christians.  I  take  no 
part  in  this  matter.  Thou  knowest  that  I  am  a  Roman 
of  the  old  stamp.  Not  a  Roman  in  my  street  is  more 
diligently  attentive  to  the  services  of  the  temple  than  I. 
I  simply  say  again,  what  I  hear  as  news  of  my  custom 
ers.  The  story  which  one  rehearses,  I  retail  to  another.' 

*  I  thank  the  gods  it  is  so,'  replied  the  man  of  power. 

*  During  these  few  words,  I  had  stood  partly  concealed 
by  a  slender  marb'e  pillar.     I  now  turned,  and  the  usual 
greetings  passed  with  the  Prefect. 

*  Ah  !  Piso  !     I  knew  not  with  certainty  my    hearer. 
Perhaps  from  you  ' — smiling  as  he  spoke  — '  we  may 
learn  the  truth.     Rome  speaks  loudly  of  your  late  de 
sertion  of  the  religion  and  worship  of  your  fathers,  and 
union  with  the  Galileans.     I  should  say,    I  hoped  the 
report  ill   founded,  had  I  not  heard  it  from  quarters  too 
authentic  to  permit  a  doubt.' 

'  You  have  heard  rightly,  Varus,'  I  rejoined.  *  After 
searching  through  all  antiquity  after  truth,  I  congratu 
late  myself  upon  having  at  last  discovered  it,  and  where 
I  least  expected,  in  a  Jew.  And  the  good  which  I 
have  found  for  myself,  I  am  glad  to  know  is  enjoyed  by 
so  many  more  of  my  fellow-citizens.  I  should  not  hes 
itate  to  confirm  the  statement  made  by  Publius,  from 
whatever  authority  he  may  have  derived  it,  rather  than 
that  which  has  been  made  by  yourself.  I  have  bestow 
ed  attention  not  only  upon  the  arguments  which  sup 
port  Christianity,  but  upon  the  actual  condition  of  the 


46  AURELIAN. 

Christian  community,  here  and  throughout  the  empire. 
It  is  prosperous  at  this  hour,  beyond  all  former  example4 
If  Pliny  could  complain,  even  in  his  day,  of  the  deser- 
tion  of  the  temples  of  the  gods,  what  may  we  now  sup 
pose  to  be  the  relative  numbers  of  the  two  great  par 
ties  ?  Only,  Varus,  allow  the  rescript  of  Gallienus  to 
continue  in  force,  which  merely  releases  us  from  op 
pressions,  and  we  shall  see  in  what  a  fair  trial  of 
strength  between  the  two  religions  will  issue.' 

1  That  dull  profligate  and  parricide,'  replied  Varus, 
'  not  content  with  killing  himself  with  his  vices,  and  his 
father  by  connivance,  must  needs  destroy  his  country  by 
his  fatuity.  I  confess,  that  till  that  order  be  repealed, 
the  superstition  will  spread.' 

'  But  it  only  places  us  upon  equal  ground.' 

1  It  is  precisely  there  where  we  never  should  be 
placed.  Should  the  conspirator  be  put  upon  the  ground 
of  a  citizen  ?  Were  the  late  rebels  of  the  mint  to  be 
relieved  from  all  oppression,  that  they  might  safely  in 
trigue  and  conspire  for  the  throne  ?' 

'  Christianity  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  empire,'  I 
answered,  *  as  such.  It  is  a  question  of  moral,  philoso 
phical,  religious  truth.  Is  truth  to  be  exalted  or  sup 
pressed  by  edicts  ? ' 

*  The  religion  of  the  state,'  replied  Varus,  '  is  a  part 
of  the  state  ;  and  he  who  assails  it,  strikes  at  the  dearest 
life  of  the  state,  and  —  forgive  me  —  is  to  be  dealt  with 
—  ought  to  be  dealt  with  —  as  a  traitor.' 

'  I  trust,'  I  replied,  *  that  that  time  will  never  again 
come,  but  that  reason  and  justice  will  continue  to  bear 
sway.  And  it  is  both  reasonable  and  just,  that  persons 
yield  to  none  in  love  of  country,  and  whose  princi- 


AURELIAN.  47 

pies  of  conduci  are  such  as  must  make  good  subjects 
everywhere,  because  they  first  make  good  meryshould 
Oe  protected  in  the  enjoyment  of  rights  and  privileges 
common  to  all  others,5 

*  If  the  Christians,'  he  rejoined,  '  are  virtuous  men,  it 
is  better  for  the  state  than  if  they  were  Christians  and 
corrupt  men.  But  still  that  would  make  no  change  in 
my  judgment  of  their  offence.  They  deny  the  gods 
who  preside  over  this  nation,  and  have  brought  it  up  to. 
its  present  height  of  power  and  fame.  Their  crime 
were  less,  I  repeat,  to  deny  the  authority  of  Aurelian, 
This  religion  of  the  Galileans  is  a  sore,  eating  into  the 
vitals  of  an  ancient  and  vigorous  constitution,  and  must 
be  cut  away.  The  knife  of  the  surgeon  is  what  the 
evil  cries  out  for  and  must  have  —  else  come  universal 
rottenness  and  death.  I  mourn  that  from  the  ranks  of 
the  very  fathers  of  the  state,  they  have  received  an  ac 
cession  like  this  of  the  house  of  ,Piso.' 

'  I  shall  think  my  time  and  talent  well  employed,'  I 
replied,  '  in  doing  what  I  may  to  set  the  question  of 
Christianity  in  its  true  light  before  the  city.  It  is  this 
very  institution,  Varus,  which  it  needs  to  preserve  it. 
Christianize  Rome,  and  you  impart  the  very  principle 
of  endurance,  of  immortality.  Under  its  present  cor 
ruptions,  it  cannot  but  sink.  Is  it  possible  that  a  com 
munity  of  men  can  long  hold  together  as  vicious  as  this 
of  Rome  ? — whose  people  are  either  disbelievers  of  all 
divine  existences,  or  else  ground  to  the  earth  by  the 
most  degrading  superstitions  ?  A  nation,  either  on  the 
one  hand  governed  by  superstition,  or,  on  the  other, 
atheistical,  contains  within  itself  the  disease  which 
sooner  or  later  will  destroy  it.  You  yourself,  it  is  no 


48  AURELIAN. 

torious,  have  never  been  within  the  walls  of  a  tem 
ple,  nor  are  Lares  or  Penates  to  be  found  within  your 
doors.' 

'  I  deny  it  not,'  rejoined  the  Prefect.  *  Most  who 
rise  to  any  intelligence,  must  renounce,  if  they  ever  har 
bored  it,  all  faith  in  the  absurdities  and  nonsense  of  the 
Roman  religion.  But  what  then  ?  These  very  absur 
dities,  as  we  deem  them,  are  holy  truth  to  the  multi 
tude,  and  do  more  than  all  bolts,  bars,  axes,  and  gibbets, 
to  keep  them  in  subjection.  The  intelligent  are  good 
citizens  by  reflection  ;  the  multitude,  through  instincts 
of  birth,  and  the  power  of  superstition.  My  idea  is,  as 
you  perceive,  Piso,  but  one.  Religion  is  the  state,  and 
for  reasons  of  state  must  be  preserved  in  the  very  form 
in  which  it  has  so  long  upheld  the  empire.' 

*  An  idea  more  degrading  than  yours,  to  our  species,' 
I  replied,  *  can  hardly  be  conceived.  I  cannot  but  look 
upon  man  as  something  more  than  a  part  of  the  state. 
He  is,  first  of  all,  a  man,  and  is  to  be  cared  for  as  such. 
To  legislate  for  the  state,  to  the  ruin  of  the  man,  is  to 
pamper  the  body,  and  kill  the  soul.  It  is  to  invert  the 
true  process.  The  individual  is  more  than  the  abstrac 
tion  which  we  term  the  state.  If  governments  cannot 
exist,  nor  empires  hold  their  sway,  but  by  the  destruc 
tion  of  the  human  being,  why  let  them  fall.  The  lesser 
must  yield  to  the  greater.  As  a  Christian,  my  concern 
is  for  man  as  man.  This  is  the  essence  of  the  re 
ligion  of  Christ.  It  is  philanthropy.  It  sees  in  every 
human  soul  a  being  of  more  value  than  empires,  and  its 
purpose  is,  by  furnishing  it  with  truths  and  motives, 
equal  to  its  wants,  to  exalt  it,  purify  it,  and  perfect  it, 
If,  in  achieving  this  work,  existing  religions  or  govern' 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N.  49 

ments  are  necessarily  overturned  or  annihilated,  Chris 
tianity  cares  not,  so  long  as  man  is  the  gainer.  And  is 
't  not  certain,  that  no  government  could  really  be  injur 
ed,  although  it  might  apparently,  and  for  a  season,  by 
its  subjects  being  raised  in  all  intelligence  and  all  vir 
tue  ?  My  work  therefore,  Varus,  will  be  to  sow  truth 
in  the  heart  of  the  people,  which  shall  make  that  heart 
fertile  and  productive.  I  do  not  believe  that  in  doing 
this  Rome  will  suffer  injury,  but  on  the  contrary  receive 
benefit.  Its  religion,  or  rather  its  degrading  supersti 
tions,  may  fall,  but  a  principle  of  almighty  energy  and 
divine  purity  will  insensibly  be  substituted  in  their  room. 
I  labor  for  man  —  not  for  the  state.' 

'  And  never,  accordingly,  most  noble  Piso,  did  man, 
in  so  unequivocal  words,  denounce  himself  traitor.' 

'  Patriot  !  friend  !  benefactor !  rather  ;'  cried  a  voice 
at  my  side,  which  I  instantly  recognized  as  that  of  Pro- 
bus.  Several  beside  himself  had  drawn  near,  listening 
with  interest  to  what  was  going  on. 

'  That  only  shows,  my  good  friend,'  said  Varus,  in  his 
same  smiling  way,  and  which  seems  the  very  contradic 
tion  of  all  that  is  harsh  and  cruel,  *  how  differently  we 
estimate  things.  Your  palate  esteems  that  to  be  whole 
some  and  nutritious  food,  which  mine  rejects  as  ashes 
to  the  taste,  and  poison  to  the  blood.  I  behold  Rome 
torn  and  bleeding,  prostrate  and  dying,  by  reason  of  in 
novations  upon  faith  and  manners,  which  to  you  appear 
the  very  means  -of  growth,  strength,  and  life.  How 
shall  we  resolve  the  doubt  —  how  reconcile  the  contra 
diction  ?  Who  shall  prescribe  for  the  patient  ?  I  am 
happy  in  the  belief,  that  the  Roman  people  have  long 
5  VOL.  i. 


50  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N. 

since  decided  for  themselves,  and  confirm  their  decision 
every  day  as  it  passes,  by  new  acts  and  declarations.' 

'  If  you  mean,'  said  Probus,  '  to  say  that  numbers 
and  the  general  voice  are  still  against  the  Christians,  I 
grant  it  so.  But  I  am  happy  too  in  my  belief,  that  the 
scale  is  trembling  on  the  beam.  There  are  more  and 
better  than  you  wot  of,  who  hail  with  eager  minds  and 
glad  hearts,  the  truths  which  it  is  our  glory,  as  servants 
of  Christ,  to  propound.  „  Within  many  a  palace  upon 
the  seven  hills,  do  prayers  go  up  in  his  name  ;  and 
what  is  more,  thousands  upon  thousands  of  the  humbler 
ranks,  of  those  who  but  yesterday  were  without  honor 
in  their  own  eyes,  or  others'  —  without  faith  —  at  war 
with  themselves  and  the  world  —  fit  tools  for  and  foe  of 
the  state  to  work  with  —  are  to-day  reverers  of  them 
selves,  worshippers  of  God,  lovers  of  mankind,  patriots 
who  love  their  country  better  than  ever  before,  because 
they  now  behold  in  every  citizen  not  only  a  citizen,  but 
a  brother  and  an  immortal.  The  doctrine  of  Christian 
ity,  as  a  lover  of  man,  so  commends  itself,  Varus,  to 
the  hearts  of  the  people,  that  in  a  few  more  years  ot 
prosperity,  and  the  face  of  the  Roman  world  will  glow 
with  a  new  beauty  ;  love  and  humanity  will  shine  forth 
in  all  its  features. 

'  That  is  very  pretty,'  said  Varus,  his  lip  slightly  curl 
ing,  as  he  spoke,  but  retaining  his  courteous  bearing, 
'  yet  methinks,  seeing  this  doctrine  is  so  bewitching,  and 
is  withal  a  heaven-inspired  wisdom,  'the  God  working 
behind  it  and  urging  it  on,  it  moves  onward  with  a  pace 
something  of  the  slowest.  Within  a  few  of  three  hun 
dred  years  has  it  appealed  to  the  human  race,  and  ap 
pealed  in  vain.  The  feeblest  and  the  worst  of  mankind 


A  UR  ELIAN.  51 

have  had  power  almost  to  annihilate  it,  and  more  than 
once  has  it  seemed  scarce  to  retain  its  life.  Would  it 
have  been  so,  had  it  been  in  reality  what  you  claim  for 
it,  of  divine  birth  ?  Would  the  gods  suffer  their  schemes 
for  man's  good  to  be  so  thwarted,  and  driven  aside  by 
man  ?  What  was  this  boasted  faith  doing  during  the 
long  and  peaceful  reigns  of  Hadrian,  and  the  first  An- 
tonine  ?  The  sword  of  persecution  was  then  sheathed, 
or  if  it  fell  at  all,  it  was  but  on  a  few.  So  too  under 
Vespasian,  Titus,  Nerva,  Commodus,  Severus,  Helio- 
gabalus,  the  Philips,  Gallienus,  and  Claudius  ? ' 

'That 'is  well  said,'  a  Roman  voice  added,  of  one 
standing  by  the  side  of  Varus,  '  and  is  a  general 
wonder.' 

*  I  marvel  it  should  be  a  wonder,'  rejoined  Probus. 
*  Can  you  pour  into  a  full  measure  ?  Must  it  not  be 
first  emptied  ?  Who,  Varus,  let  him  try  as  he  may, 
could  plant  the  doctrine  of  Christ  in  thy  heart  ?  Could 
I  do  it,  think  you  ?  —  or  Piso  ?  ' 

4  I  trow  not.' 

1  And  why,  I  pray  you  ?  ' 

1  It  is  not  hard  to  guess.' 

4  Is  it  not  because  you  are  already  full  of  contrary 
notions,  to  which  you  cling  tenaciously,  and  from  which, 
perhaps,  no  human  force  could  drag  you  ?  But  yours 
is  a  type  of  every  other  Roman  mind  to  which  Chris 
tianity  has  been  offered.  If  you  receive  it  not  at  once, 
should  others  ?  Suppose  the  soul  to  be  full  of  sincere 
convictions  as  to  the  popular  faith,  can  the  gospel  easily 
enter  there  ?  Suppose  it  skeptical,  as  to  all  spiritual 
truth  ;  can  it  enter  there  ?  Suppose  it  polluted  by  vice  * 


52  A  U  R  E  I,  I  A  N  . 

can  it  easily  enter  there  ?     Suppose  it  like  the  soul  of 

Pronto, ' 

'  Hush  !  hush  !'  said  several  voices.     Prolus  heeded 
them  not. 

*  Suppose  it  like  the    soul   of  Pronto,  could  it  enter 
there  ?     See  you  not  then,  by  knowing  your  own  hearts, 
what  time  it  must  demand   for  a  new,  and  specially  a 
strict    doctrine,  to    make    its    way    into  the  minds  of 
men  ?     'T  is  not  easier  to  bore  a  rock  with  one's  finger, 
than  to  penetrate  a  heart  hardened  by  sin   or   swelled 
with  prejudice  and  pride.     And  if  we   say,  Varus,  this 
was  a  work  for  the  God  to  do —  that  he  who  originated 
the  faith  should  propagate  it  —  I  answer,  that  would  not 
be  like  the  other  dealings   of  the   divine   power.     He 
furnishes  you  with  earth  and  seed,  but  he  ploughs   not 
for  you,  nor  plants,  nor  reaps.     He   gives   you  reason, 
out  he  pours  not  knowledge   into   your   mind.     So  he 
offers  truth  ;  but  that  is  all.     He  compels   no  '  assent ; 
he  forces  no  belief.     All  is  voluntary   and   free.     How 
then  can  the  march  of  truth  be   otherwise   than  slow  ? 
Truth,  being  the  greatest  thing  below,  resembles  in  its 
port  the  motion  of  the  stars,  which    are    the  greatest 
things  above.     But  like  theirs,  if  slow,  it  is  ever  sure 
and  onward.' 

'  The  stars  set  in  night.' 

*  But  they  rise  again.     Truth  is  eclipsed   often,  and 
it  sets  for  a  night ;  but  never  is   turned  aside  from  its 
eternal  path.' 

*  Never,    Publius,'  said   the    Prefect,    adjusting    his 
gown,  and  with  the  act  filling   the   air   with   perfume 
*  never  did  I  think  to   find  myself  within   a    Christian 
church.     Your  shop   possesses  many  virtues.     It  is  & 


AURELIAN.  53 

olace  to  be  instructed  in.'  Then  turning  to  Probus,  he 
soothingly  and  in  persuasive  tones,  added,  '  Be  advised 
now,  good  friend,  and  leave  off  thy  office  of  teacher. 
Rome  can  well  spare  thee.  Take  the  judgment  of 
others  ;  we  need  not  thy  doctrine.  Let  that  alone  which 
is  well  established  and  secure.  Spare  these  institu 
tions,  venerable  through  a  thousand  years.  Leave 
changes  to  the  gods.' 

Probus  was  about  to  reply,  when  we  were  strangely 
interrupted.  While  we  had  been  conversing,  there 
stood  before  me,  in  the  midst  of  the  floor  of  the  apart 
ment,  a  man,  whose  figure,  face,  and  demeanor  were 
such  that  I  hardly  could  withdraw  my  eye  from  him. 
He  was  tall  and  gaunt,  beyond  all  I  ever  saw,  and  erect 
as  a  Prcetorian  in  the  ranks.  His  face  was  strongly 
Roman,  thin  and  bony,  with  sunken  cheeks,  a  brown 
and  wrinkled  skin  —  not  through  age,  but  exposure  — 
and  eyes  more  wild  and  fiery  than  ever  glared  in  the 
head  of  Hun  or  hyena.  He  seemed  a  living  fire-brand 
of  death  and  ruin.  As  we  talked,  he  stood  there  mo 
tionless,  sometimes  casting  glances  at  our  group,  but 
more  frequently  fixing  them  upon  a  roll  which  he  held 
in  his  hands. 

As  Varus  uttered  the  last  words,  this  man  suddenly 
left  his  post,  and  reaching  us  with  two  or  three  strides, 
shook  his  long  finger  at  Varus,  saying,  at  the  same 
time, 

'  Hold,  blasphemer  !' 

The  Prefect  started  as  if  struck,  and   gazing   a    mo 
ment  with  unfeigned  amazement  at  the  figure,  then  im 
mediately  burst  into  a  laugh,  crying  out, 
5^         VOL.  i. 


64  AURELIAN. 

I  Ha  !  ha  !     Who   in  the  name  of  Hecate  have  we 
here  ?     Ha  !    ha  !  —  he  seems   just  escaped  from  the 
Vivaria.' 

*  Thy  laugh,'  said  the  figure,  '  is  the  music  of  a  sick 
and  dying  soul.     It  is  a  rebel's  insult  against  the  majes 
ty  of  Heaven  ;  ay,  laugh  on  !     That  is  what  the  devils 
do  ;  it  is  the  merriment  of  hell.     What  time  they  bum 
not,  they  laugh.     But  enough.     Hold  now  thy  scoffing, 
Prefect  Varus,  for,  high  as   thou   art,  I    fear    thee   not  : 
n&  !  not  wert  thou  twice  Aurelian,  instead  of  Varus.     I 
have  somewhat  for  thee.     Wilt  hear  it  ?' 

*  With  delight,  Bubo.     Say  on.' 

4  It  was  thy  word  just  now,  *  Borne  needs  not  this 
doctrine,'  was  it  not  ?  ' 

'  If  I  said  it  not,  it  is  a  good  saying,  and  I  will  father 
it.' 

I 1  Rome  needs  not  this  doctrine  ;  she  is  well  enough ; 
let  her  alone  ! '     These   were    thy   words.     Need  not, 
Varus,  the  streets  of  Rome  a  cleansing  river  to  purify 
them  ?     Dost  thou  think  them  well  enough,   till  all  the 
fountains  have  been  let  loose  to  purge  them  ?     Is    Tar- 
quin's  sewer  a  place  to  dwell  in  ?     Could   all  the  wa 
ters  of  Rome   sweeten   it  ?     The  people   of  Rome  are 
fouler  than  her   highways.     The   sewers   are    sweeter 
than  the  very  worshippers  of  our  temples.     Thou  know- 
est  somewhat  of  this.     Wast  ever  present  at  the  rites  of 
Bacchus  ?  —  or  those  of  the  Cyprian  goddess  ?     Nay, 
blush  not  yet.     Didst  ever  hear  of  the  gladiator  Pollex  ? 
. —  of  the  woman  Caecina  ?  —  of  the  boy  Laelius,  and  the 
fair  girl  Fannia  —  proffered   and   sold   by  the  parents, 
Pollex  and  Csecina,  to  the  loose  pleasures  of  Gallienus  ? 
Now  I  give  thee  leave  to  blush  !      Is  it  nought  that  the 


AURE  LI  AN  .  55 

tme  half  of  Rome  is  sunk  in  a  sensuality,  a  beastly 
drunkenness  and  lust,  fouler  than  that  of  old,  which,  in 
Judea,  called  down  the  fiery  vengeance  of  the  insulted 
heavens  ?  Thou  knowest  well,  both  from  early  experi 
ence  and  because  of  thy  office,  what  the  purlieus  of  the 
theatres  are,  and  places  worse  than  those,  and  which 
to  name  were  an  offence.  But  to  you  they  need  not 
be  named.  Is  all  this,  Varus,  well  enough  ?  Is  this 
that  venerable  order  thou  wouldst  not  have  disturbed  ? 
Is  that  to  be  charged  as  impiety  and  atheism,  which 
aims  to  change  and  reform  it  ?  Are  they  conspirators, 
and  rebels,  and  traitors,  whose  sole  office  and  labor  is 
to  mend  these  degenerate  morals,  to  heal  these  corrupt 
ing  sores,  to  pour  a  better  life  into  the  rotting  carcass  of 
this  guilty  city  ?  Is  it  for  our  pastime,  or  our  profit, 
that  we  go  about  this  always  dangerous  work  ?  Is  it  a 
pleasure  to  hear  the  gibes,  jests,  and  jeers  of  the  streets 
and  the  places  of  public  resort  ?  Will  you  not  believe 
that  it  is  for  some  great  end  that  we  do  and  bear  as  thou 
seest  —  even  the  redemption,  and  purifying,  and  saving 
of  Rome  ?  I  love  Rome,  even  as  a  mother,  and  for  her 
am  ready  to  die.  I  have  bled  for  her  freely  in  battle, 
in  Gaul,  upon  the  Danube,  in  Asia,  and  in  Egypt.  I 
am  willing  to  bleed  for  her  at  home,  even  unto  death,  if 
that  blood  might,  through  the  blessing  of  God,  be  a 
stream  to  cleanse  her  putrifying  members.  But  O, 
holy  Jesus  !  why  waste  I  words  upon  one  whose  heart 
is  harder  than  the  nether  millstone  !  Thou  preachedst 
not  to  Pilate,  nor  didst  thou  work  thy  wonders  for 
Herod.  Varus,  beware  !' 

And    with  these    words,   uttered   with   a  wild   and 


56  AUREL1AN. 

threatening  air,  he  abruptly  turned  away,  and   was  lost 
in  the  crowds  of  the  street. 

While  he  raved,  the  Prefect  maintained  the  same  un 
ruffled  demeanor  as  before.  His  customary  smile  play 
ed  around  his  mouth,  a  smile  like  no  other  I  ever 
saw.  To  a  casual  observer,  it  would  seem  like  every 
other  smile,  but  to  one  who  watches  him,  it  is  evident 
that  it  denotes  no  hilarity  of  heart,  for  the  eyes  accom 
pany  it  not  with  a  corresponding  expression,  but  on  the 
contrary,  look  forth  from  their  beautiful  cavities  with 
glances  that  speak  of  anything  rather  than  of  peace  and 
good-will.  So  soon  as  the  strange  being  who  had  been 
declaiming  had  disappeared,  the  Prefect,  turning  to  me, 
as  he  drew  up  his  gown  around  him,  said, 

*  I  give  you  joy,  Piso,  of  your  coadjutor.     A  few  more 
of  the  same  fashion,  and  Rome  is  safe.'     And  saluting 
us  with  urbanity,  he  sallied  from  the  shop. 

I  had  been  too  much  amazed,  myself,  during  this 
scene,  to  do  anything  else  than  stand  still,  and  listen, 
and  observe.  As  for  Probus,  I  saw  him  to  be  greatly 
moved,  and  give  signs  of  even  deep  distress.  He  evi 
dently  knew  who  the  person  was  —  as  I  saw  him  make 
more  than  one  ineffectual  effort  to  arrest  him  in  his 
harangue — and  as  evidently  held  him  in  respect,  seeing 
he  abstained  from  all  interruption  of  a  speech  that  he 
felt  to  be  provoking  wantonly  the  passions  of  the  Pre 
feet,  and  of  many  who  stood  around,  from  whom,  so 
soon  as  the  man  of  authority  had  withdrawn,  angry 
words  broke  forth  abundantly. 

*  Well  did  the  noble  Prefect  say,  that  that  wild  an 
imal    had   come   forth  like  a  half-famished  tiger  from 
the  Vivaria,'  said  one 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  67 

'  It  is  singular,'  observed  another,  *  that  a  man  vvhr 
pretends  to  reform  the  state,  should  think  to  do  it  by  first 
putting  it  into  a  rage  with  him,  and  all  he  utters.' 

'  Especially  singular,'  added  a  third,  '  that  the  advo 
cate  of  a  religion  that,  as  I  hear,  condemns  violence,  and 
consists  in  the  strictness  with  which  the  passions  are 
governed,  should  suppose  that  he  was  doing  any  other 
work  than  entering  a  breach  in  his  own  citadel,  by  such 
ferocity.  But  it  is  quite  possible  his  wits  are  touched.' 

*  No,  I  presume  not,'  said  the  first  ;  '  this  is  a  kind  ol 
zeal  which,  if  I  have   observed  aright,  the   Christians 
hold  in  esteem.' 

As  these  separated  to  distant  parts  of  the  shop,  I  said 
to  Probus,  who  seemed  heavily  oppressed  by  what  had 
occurred,  '  What  daemon  dwells  in  that  body  that  has 
just  departed  ? ' 

'  Well  do  you  say  dcemon.  The  bp.tter  mind  of  that 
man  seems  oft-times  seized  upon  by  some  foul  spirit, 
and  bound  —  which  then  acts  and  speaks  in  its  room. 
But  do  you  not  know  him  ? ' 

1  No,  truly  ;  he  is  a  stranger  to  me,  as  he  appears  to 
be  to  all.' 

'  Nevertheless,  you  have  been  in  his  company.  You 
forget  not  the  Mediterranean  voyage  ?' 

*  By  no  means.     I  enjoyed  it   highly,  and   recall   it 
ever  with  delight.' 

4  Do  you  not  remember,  at  the  time  I  narrated  to 
you  the  brief  story  of  my  life,  that,  as  I  ended,  a  rough 
voice  from  among  the  soldiers  exclaimed,  '  Where  now 
are  the  gods  of  Rome  ?'  This  is  that  man,  the  soldier 
Macer  ;  then  bound  with  fellow  soldiers  to  the  service 
in  Africa,  now  a  Christian  preacher.' 


§8  A.URELIAN. 

1 1  see  it  now.  That  man  impressed  me  then  with  his 
thin  form  and  all-devouring  eyes.  But  the  African  cli 
mate,  and  the  gash  across  his  left  cheek,  and  which 
seems  to  have  slightly  disturbed  the  eye  upon  that 
side,  have  made  him  a  different  being,  and  almost  a  ter 
rific  one.  Is  he  sound  and  sane  ?' 

'  Perfectly  so,'  replied  Probus,  '  unless  we  may  say 
that  souls  earnestly  devoted  and  zealous,  are  mad. 
There  is  not  a  more  righteous  soul  in  Rome.  His  con 
science  is  bare,  and  shrinking  like  a  fresh  wound.  His 
breast  is  warm  and  fond  as  a  woman's  —  his  penitence 
for  the  wild  errors  of  his  pagan  youth,  a  consuming 
fire,  which,  while  it  redoubles  his  ardor  in  doing  what 
he  may  in  the  cause  of  truth,  rages  in  secret,  and,  if  the 
sword  or  the  cross  claim  him  not,  will  bring  him  to 
the  grave.  He  is  utterly  incapable  of  fear.  All  the 
racks  and  dungeons  of  Rome,  with  their  tormentors, 
could  not  terrify  him.' 

'  You  now  interest  me  in  him.  I  must  see  and  know 
him.  It  might  be  of  service  to  him  and  to  all,  Probus, 
methinks,  if  he  could  be  brought  to  associate  with  those 
whose  juster  notions  might  influence  his,  and  modify 
them  to  the  rule  of  truth.' 

'  I  fear  not.  What  he  sees,  he  sees  clearly  and 
strongly,  and  by  itself.  He  understands  nothing  of  one 
truth  bearing  upon  another,  and  adding  to  it,  or  taking 
from  it.  Truth  is  truth  with  him  —  and  as  his  own 
mind  perceives  it  —  not  another's.  His  conscience  will 
allow  him  in  no  accommodations  to  other  men's  opinions 
or  wishes  ;  with  him,  right  is  right,  wrong  is  wrong. 
He  is  impatient  under  an  argument  as  a  war-horse  un 
der  the  rein  after  the  trumpet  sounds.  It  is  unavoida- 


AURELIAN.  59 

ble  therefore  out  he  should  possess  great  power  among 
the  Christians  of  Rome.  His  are  the  bold  and  decisive 
qualities  that  strike  the  common  mind.  There  is  glory 
and  applause  in  following  and  enduring  under  such  a 
leader.  Many  are  fain  to  believe  him  divinely  illumi 
nated  and  impelled,  to  unite  the  characters  of  teacher 
and  prophet  ;  and  from  knowing  that  he  is  so  regard 
ed  by  others,  Macer  has  come  almost  to  believe  it 
himself.  He  is  tending  more  and  more  to  construe  ev 
ery  impulse  of  his  own  mind  into  a  divine  suggestion, 
and  I  believe  honestly  experiences  difficulty  in  discrim 
inating  between  them.  Still,!  do  not  deny  that  it  would 
be  of  advantage  for  him  more  and  more  to  come  in  con 
tact  with  sober  and  enlightened  minds.  I  shall  take 
pleasure,  at  some  fitting  moment,  to  accompany  you  to 
his  humble  dwelling  ;  the  rather  as  I  would  show  you 
also  his  wife  and  children,  all  of  whom  are  like  himself 
Christians.' 

{  I  shall  not  forget  the  promise.' 

Whereupon  we  separated. 

I  then  searched  for  Publius,  and  making  my  pur 
chases,  returned  home,  Milo  following  with  the 
books. 

As  Milo  relieved  himself  of  his  burden,  discharg 
ing  it  upon  the  floor  of  the  library,  I  overheard  him 
to  say, 

'  Lie  there,  accursed  rolls  !  May  the  flames  consume 
you,  ere  you  are  again  upon  my  shoulders  !  For  none 
but  Piso  would  I  have  done  what  I  have.  Let  me  to 
the  temple  and  expiate.' 

'  What  words  are  these  ?'  cried  Solon,  emerging 
suddenly  at  the  sound  from  a  recess.  *  Who  dares  to 


60  ,1  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

heap  curses  upon  books,  which  are  the  .soul  embalmed 
and  made  imperishable?  What  have  we  here  ?  Aha  ! 
a  new  treasure  for  these  vacant  shelves,  and  most 
trimly  ordered.' 

'  These,  venerable  Greek,'  exclaimed  Milo,  waving 
him  away,  *  are  books  of  magic  !  oriental  magic  !  Have 
a  care  !  A  touch  may  be  fatal  !  Our  noble  master  af 
fects  the  Egyptians.' 

4  Magic  !'  exclaimed  Solon,  with  supreme  contempt  ; 
1  art  thou  so  idiotic  as  to  put  credence  in  such  fancies  ? 
Away  ! — hinder  me  not  ! '  And  saying  so,  he  eagerly 
grasped  a  volume,  and  unrolling  it,  to  the  beginning  Of 
the  work,  dropped  it  suddenly,  as  if  bitten  by  a  serpent. 

4  Ha  !'  cried  Milo,  '  said  I  not  so  ?  Art  thou  so 
idiotic,  learned  Solon,  as  to  believe  in  such  fancies  ? 
How  is  it  with  thee  ?  Is  thy  blood  hot  or  cold  ?  —  thy 
teeth  loose  or  fast  ?  —  thy  arm  withered  or  swollen  ?  ' 

Solon  stood  surveying  the  pile,  with  a  look  partly  of 
anger,  partly  of  sorrow. 

4  Neither,  fool  ! '  he  replied.  4  These  possess  not  the 
power  nor  worth  fabled  of  magic.  They  are  books  of 
dreams,  visions,  reveries,  which  are  to  the  mind  what 
fogs  would  be  for  food,  and  air  for  drink,  innutritive 
and  vain.  Papias  !  —  Irenseus  !  —  Hegesippus  !  —  Po- 
lycarp  !  —  Origen  ! —  whose  names  are  these,  and  to 
whom  familiar  ?  Some  are  Greek,  some  are  Latin,  but 
not  a  name  famous  in  the  world  meets  my  eye.  But 
we  will  order  them  on  their  shelves,  and  trust  that  time, 
which  accomplishes  all  things,  will  restore  reason .  to 
Piso.  Milo,  essay  thy  strength  —  my  limbs  are  feeble 
—  and  lift  these  upon  yonder  marble  ;  so  may  age  deal 
gently  with  thee.' 


AURELIAN.  61 

1  Not  for  their  weight  in  wisdom,  Solon,  would  I 
again  touch  them.  I  have  home  them  hither,  and  if 
the  priests  speak  truly,  my  life  is  worth  not  an  obolus. 
I  were  mad  to  tempt  my  fate  farther.' 

'  Avaunt  thee,  then,  for  a  fool  and  a  slave,  as  thou 
art  !  ' 

*  Nay  now,  master  Solon,  thy  own  wisdom  forsakes 
thee.  Philosophers,  they  say,  are  ever  possessors  of 
themselves,  though  for  the  rest  they  he  beggars.' 

'  Beggar  !  sayest  thou  ?  Avaunt  !  I  say,  or  Papias 
shall  teach  thee'  —  and  he  would  have  launched  the 
roll  at  the  head  of  Milo,  hut  that,  with  quick  instincts, 
he  shot  from  the  apartment,  and  left  the  pedagogue  to 
do  his  own  bidding. 

So,  Fausta,  you  see  that  Solon  is  still  the  irritable 
>Jd  man  he  was,  and  Milo  the  fool  he  was.  Think  not 
rne  worse  than  either,  for  hoping  so  to  entertain  you. 
I  know  that  in  your  solitude  and  grief,  even  such  pic 
tures  may  be  welcome. 

When  I  related  to  Julia  the  scene  and  the  conversa 
tion  at  the  shop  of  Publius,  she  listened  not  without 
agitation,  and  expresses  her  fears  lest  such  extravagan 
ces,  repeated  and  become  common,  should  inflame  the 
minds  both  of  the  people  and  their  rulers  against  the 
Christians.  Though  I  agree  with  her  in  lamenting  the 
excess  of  zeal  displayed  by  many  of  the  Christians,  and 
their  needless  assaults  upon  the  characters  and  faith  of 
their  opposers,  I  cannot  apprehend  serious  consequen 
ces  from  them,  because  the  instances  of  it  are  so  few 
and  rare,  and  are  palpable  exceptions  to  the  general 
character  which  I  believe  the  whole  city  would  unite  in 
6  VOL.  I. 


62 


AU  R  E  L I  A  N 


ascribing  to  this  people.  Their  mildness  and  pacific 
temper  are  perhaps  the  very  traits  by  which  they  are 
most  distinguished,  with  which  they  are  indeed  contin 
ually  reproached.  Yet  individual  acts  are  often  the 
remote  causes  of  vast  universal  evil  —  of  bloodshed, 
war,  and  revolution.  Macer  alone  is  enough  to  set  on 
fire  a  city,  a  continent,  a  world. 

I  rejoice,  I  cannot  tell  you  how  sincerely,  in  all  your 
progress.  I  do  not  doubt  in  the  ultimate  return  of  tho 
city  to  its  former  populousness  and  wealth,  at  least. 
Aurelian  has  done  well  for  you  at  last.  His  disburse 
ments  for  the  Temple  of  the  Sun  alone  are  vast,  and 
must  be  more  than  equal  to  its  perfect  restoration.  Yet 
his  overthrown  column  you  will  scarce  be  tempted  to 
rebuild.  Forget  not  to  assure  Gracchus  and  Calpur- 
nius  of  my  affection.  Farewell. 


A  I'  R  E  L  1  A  N  63 


LETTER    III. 


FROM      P1SO      TO      FAUSTA. 

You  are  right,  Fausta,  in  your  unfavorable  judg 
ment  of  the  Roman  populace.  The  Romans  are  not  a 
people  one  would  select  to  whom  to  propose  a  religion 
like  this  of  Christianity.  All  causes  seem  to  combine 
to  injure  and  corrupt  them.  They  are  too  rich.  The 
wealth  of  subject  kingdoms  and  provinces  finds  its  way 
to  Rome  ;  and  not  only  in  the  form  of  tribute  to  the 
treasury  of  the  empire,  but  in  that  of  the  private  fortunes 
amassed  by  such  as  have  held  offices  in  them  for  a  few 
years,  and  who  then  return  to  the  capital  to  dissipate  in 
extravagance  and  luxuries,  unknown  to  other  parts  of 
the  world,  the  riches  wrung  by  violence,  injustice,  and 
avarice  from  the  wretched  Inhabitants  whom  fortune 
had  delivered  into  their  power.  Yes,  the  wealth  of 
Rome  is  accumulated  in  such  masses,  not  through  the 
channels  of  industry  or  commerce  ;  it  arrives  in  bales 
and  ship-loads,  drained  from  foreign  lands  by  the  hand 
of  extortion.  The  palaces  are  not  to  be  numbered,  built 
and  adorned  in  a  manner  surpassing  those  of  the  mon- 
archs  of  other  nations,  which  are  the  private  residences 
of  those,  or  of  the  descendants  of  those  who  for  a  few 
years  have  presided  over  some  distant  province,  but  in 
that  brief  time,  Verres-like,  have  used  their  opportuni 
ties  so  well  as  to  return  home  oppressed  with  a  wealth 
which  life  Droves  not  long  enough  to  spend,  notwith- 


64  ATTRELIAN. 

standing  the  aid  of  dissolute  and  spendthrift  sons. 
Here  have  we  a  single  source  of  evil  equal  to  the  ruin 
of  any  people.  The  morals  of  no  community  could  be 
protected  against  such  odds.  It  is  a  mountain  torrent 
tearing  its  way  through  the  fields  of  the  husbandman, 
whose  trees  and  plants  possess  no  strength  of  branch  or 
root  to  resist  the  inundation. 

Then  in  addition  to  all  this,  there  are  the  largesses 
of  the  Emperor,  not  only  to  his  armies,  but  to  all  the 
citizens  of  Rome  ;  which  are  now  so  much  a  matter  of 
expectation,  that  rebellions  I  believe  would  ensue  were 
they  not -bestowed.  Aurelian,  before  his  expedition  to 
Asia,  promised  to  every  citizen  a  couple  of  crowns  —  he 
has  redeemed  the  promise  by  the  distribution,  not  of 
money  but  of  bread,  two  loaves  to  each,  with  the  figure 
of  a  crown  stamped  upon  them.  Besides  this,  there 
has  been  an  allowance  of  meat  and  pork  —  so  much  to 
all  the  lower  orders.  He  even  contemplated  the  addi 
tion  of  wine  to  the  list,  but  was  hindered  by  the  ju 
dicious  suggestion  of  his  friend  and  general,  Mucapor, 
that  if  he  provided  wine  and  pork,  he  would  next  be 
obliged  to  furnish  them  fowls  also,  or  public  tumults 
might  break  out.  This  recalled  him  to  his  senses. 
Still  however  only  in  part,  for  the  other  grants  have  not 
been  withdrawn.  In  this  manner  is  this  whole  popula 
tion  supported  in  idleness.  Labor  is  confined  to  the 
slaves.  The  poor  feed  upon  the  bounties  of  the  Empe 
ror,  and  the  wealth  so  abundantly  lavished  by  senators, 
nobles,  and  the  retired  proconsuls.  Their  sole  employ 
ment  is,  to  wait  upon  the  pleasure  of  their  many  mas 
ters,  serve  them  as  they  are  ready  enough  to  do,  in  the 
toils  and  preparations  of  luxury,  and  what  time  they  ara 


AURELIAN.  65 

not  thus  occupied,  pass  the  remainder  of  their  hours  at 
the  theatres,  at  the  circuses,  at  games  of  a  thousand 
kinds,  or  in  noi^y  groups  at  the  corners  of  the  streets 
and  Hi  the  market-places. 

It  io  become  a  state  necessity  to  provide  amusements 
for  the  populace  in  order  to  be  safe  against  their  vio 
lence.  The  theatres,  the  baths,  with  their  ample 
provisions  for  passing  away  time  in  some  indolent  a- 
musement  or  active  game,  are  always  open  and  always 
crowded.  Public  or  funeral  games  are  also  in  progress 
without  intermission  in  different  parts  of  the  capital. 
Those  instituted  in  honor  of  the  gods,  and  which  make 
a  part  of  the  very  religion  of  the  people  are  seldom 
suspended  for  even  a  day.  At  one  temple  or  another, 
in  this  grove  or  that,  within  or  without  the  walls,  are 
these  lovers  of  pleasure  entertained  by  shows,  proces 
sions,  music,  and  sacrifices.  And  as  if  these  were  not 
enough,  or  when  they  perchance  fail  for  a  moment,  and 
the  sovereign  people  are  listless  and  dull,  the  Flavian 
is  thrown  open  by  the  imperial  command,  the  Vivaria 
vomit  forth  their  maddened  and  howling  tenants  either 
to  destroy  each  other,  or  dye  the  dust  of  the  arena  with 
the  blood  of  gladiators,  criminals,  or  captives.  These 
are  the  great  days  of  the  Roman  people  ;  these  their  fa 
vorite  pleasures.  The  cry  through  the  streets  in  the 
morning  of  even  women  and  boys,  'Fifty  captives  to-day 
for  the  lions  in  the  Flavian,'  together  with  the  more 
solemn  announcement  of  the  same  by  the  public  heralds, 
and  by  painted  bills  at  the  corners  of  the  streets,  and 
on  the  public  baths,  is  sure  to  throw  the  city  into  a  fe 
ver  of  excitement,  and  rivet  by  a  new  bond  the  affec- 
6*  VOL.  i. 


DO  AURELIAN. 

tions  of  this  blood-thirsty  people  to  their  indulgent  Em 
peror. 

Hardly  has  the  floor  of  the  amphitheatre  been  renewed 
since  the  cessation  of  the  triumphal  games  of  Aurelian, 
before  it  is  again  to  be  soaked  with  blood  in  honor  of 
Apollo,  whose  magnificent  temple  is  within  a  few  days 
to  be  dedicated. 

Never  before  I  believe  was  there  a  city  whose  inhab 
itants  so  many  and  so  powerful  causes  conspired  to  cor 
rupt  and  morally  destroy.  Were  I  to  give  you  a  picture 
of  the  vices  of  Rome,  it  would  be  too  dark  and  foul  a 
one  for  your  eye  to  read,  but  not  darker  nor  fouler  than 
you  will  suppose  it  must  necessarily  be  to  agree  with 
what  I  have  already  said.  Where  there  is  so  little  in 
dustry  and  so  much  pleasure,  the  vices  will  flourish  and 
shoot  up  to  their  most  gigantic  growth.  Not  in  the 
days  of  Nero  were  they  more  luxuriant  than  now.  Au 
relian,  in  the  first  year  of  his  reign,  laid  upon  them  a 
severe  but  useful  restraint,  and  they  were  checked  for  a 
time.  But  since  he  has  himself  departed  from  the  sim 
plicity  and  rigor  of  that  early  day,  and  actually  or  vir 
tually  repealed  the  laws  which  then  were  promulged 
for  the  reformation  of  the  city  in  its  manners,  the  peo 
ple  have  also  relapsed,  and  the  ancient  excesses  are 
renewed. 

This  certainly  is  not  a  people  who,  in  its  whole  mass, 
will  be  eager  to  receive  the  truths  of  a  religion  like 
this  of  Christianity.  It  will  be  repulsive  to  them.  You 
&re  right  in  believing  that  among  the  greater  part  it 
will  find  no  favor.  But  all  are  not  such  as  I  have  de 
scribed.  There  are  others  different  in  all  respects,  who 
stand  waiting  the  appearance  of  some  principles  of  phi- 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  67 

losophy  or  religion  which  shall  be  powerful  enough  to 
redeem  their  country  from  idolatry  and  moral  death 
as  well  as  raise  themselves  from  darkness  to  light. 
Some  of  this  sort  are  to  be  found  among  the  nobles  and 
senators  themselves,  —  a  few  among  the  very  dregs  of 
the  people,  but  most  among  those  who,  securing  for 
themselves  competence  and  independence  by  their  own 
labor  in  some  of  the  useful  arts,  and  growing  tnoughtful 
and  intelligent  with  their  labor,  understand  in  some  de 
gree,  which  others  do  not,  what  life  is  for  and  what  they 
are  for,  and  hail  with  joy  truths  which  commend  them 
selves  to  both  their  reason  and  their  affections.  It  is 
out  of  these,  the  very  best  blood  of  Rome,  that  our 
Christians  are  made.  They  are,  in  intelligence  and 
virtue,  the  very  bone  and  muscle  of  the  capital,  and  of 
our  two  millions  constitute  no  mean  proportion, — large 
enough  to  rule  and  control  the  whole,  should  they  ever 
choose  to  put  forth  their  power.  It  is  among  these  that 
the  Christian  preachers  aim  to  spread  their  doctrines, 
and  when  they  shall  all,  or  in  their  greater  part,  be  con 
verted,  as,  judging  of  the  future  by  the  past  and  pres 
ent,  will  happen  in  no  long  time,  Rome  will  be  safe  and 
the  empire  safe.  For  it  needs,  I  am  persuaded,  for 
Rome  to  be  as  pure  as  she  is  great,  to  be  eternal  in  her 
dominion,  and  then  the  civilizer  and  saviour  of  the 
whole  world.  0,  glorious  age  !  —  not  remote  —  when 
truth  shall  wield  the  sceptre  in  Caesar's  seat,  and  subject 
nations  of  the  earth  no  longer  come  up  to  Rome  to  be 
hold  and  copy  her  vices,  but  to  hear  the  law  and  be 
imbued  with  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  so  bearing  back  to 
the  remotest  province  precious  seed,  there  to  be  planted, 


63  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

and  spring  np    and   bear   fruit,  filling   the    ear'.h    with 
beauty  and  fragrance. 

These  things,  Fausta,  in  answer  to  the  questions  at 
the  close  of  your  letter,  which  betray  just  such  an  in 
terest  in  the  subject  which  engrosses  me,  as  it  gives  me 
pleasure  to  witness. 

I  have  before  mentioned  the  completion  of  Aurelian's 
Temple  of  the  Sun  and  the  proposed  dedication.  This 
august  ceremony  is  appointed  for  tomorrow,  and  this 
evening  we  are  bidden  to  the  gardens  of  Sallust,  where 
is  to  be  all  the  rank  and  beauty  of  Rome.  0  that  thouv 
Fausta,  couldst  be  there  ! 

I  have  been,  I  have  seen,  I  have  supped,  I  have  re 
turned  ;  and  again  seated  at  my  table  beneath  the  pro 
tecting  arm  of  my  chosen  divinity,  I  take  my  pen,  and, 
by  a  few  magic  flourishes  and  marks,  cause  you,  a 
thousand  leagues  away,  to  see  and  hear  what  I  have 
seen  and  heard. 

Accompanied  by  Portia  and  Julia,  I  was  within  the 
palace  of  the  Emperor  early  enough  to  enjoy  the  com 
pany  of  Aurelian  and  Livia  before  the  rest  of  the  world 
was  there.  We  were  carried  to  the  more  private  apart 
ments  of  the  Empress,  where  it  is  her  custom  to  receive 
those  whose  friendship  she  values  most  highly.  They 
are  in  that  part  of  the  palace  which  has  undergone  no 
alterations  since  it  was  the  residence  of  the  great  histo 
rian,  but  shines  in  all  the  lustre  of  a  taste  and  an  art 
that  adorned  a  more  accomplished  age  than  our  own 
Especially,  it  seems  to  me,  in  the  graceful  disposition  of 
the  interiors  of  their  palaces,  and  the  combined  richness 


AU  RE  LI  AN.  69 

and  appropriateness  of  the  art  lavished  upon  them,  did 
the  genius  of  the  days  of  Hadrian  and  Vespasian  sur 
pass  the  present.  Not  that  I  defend  all  that  that  genius 
adopted  and  immortalized.  It  was  not  seldom  licentious 
and  gross  in  its  conceptions,  however  unrivalled  in  the 
art  and  science  by  which  they  were  made  to  glow  upon 
the  walls,  or  actually  speak  and  move  in  marble  or 
brass.  In  the  favorite  apartment  of  Livia,  into  which 
we  were  now  admitted,  perfect  in  its  forms  and  propor 
tions,  the  walls  and  ceilings  are  covered  with  the  story 
of  Leda,  wrought  with  an  effect  of  drawing  and  color, 
of  which  the  present  times  afford  no  example.  The 
well-known  Greek,  Polymnestes,  was  the  artist.  And 
this  room  in  all  its  embellishments  is  chaste  and  cold 
compared  with  others,  whose  subjects  were  furnished 
to  the  painter  by  the  profligate  master  himself. 

The  room  of  Leda,  as  it  is  termed,  is — but  how  beau 
tiful  it  is  I  cannot  tell.  Words  paint  poorly  to  the  eyo. 
Believe  it  not  less  beautiful,  nor  less  exquisitely  adorned 
with  all  that  woman  loves  most,  hangings,  carpets  an  i 
couches,  than  any  in  the  palace  of  Gracchus  or  Zenobia. 
It  was  here  we  found  Aurelian  and  Livia,  and  his  niece 
Aurelia.  The  Emperor,  habited  in  silken  robes  richly 
wrought  with  gold,  the  inseparable  sword  at  his  sido, 
from  which,  at  the  expense  of  whatever  incongruity,  he 
never  parts — advanced  to  the  door  to  receive  us,  saying, 

*  I  am  happy  that  the  mildness  of  this  autumn  day 
permits  this  pleasure,  to  see  the  mother  of  the  Pisos 
beneath  my  roof.  It  is  rare  nowadays  that  Rome  sees 
her  abroad.' 

1  Save  to  the  palace  of  Aurelian,'  replied  my  mother, 
i  now,  as  is  well  known,  never  move  beyond  the  ore- 


70  A  tt  R  E  L  I  A  N. 

cincts  of  my  own  dwelling.  Since  the  captivity  and 
death  of  your  former  companion  in  arms,  my  great  hus 
band,  Cneius  Piso,  the  widow's  hearth  has  been  my 
hall  of  state,  these  widow's  weeds  my  only  robes.  But 
it  must  be  more  than  private  grief,  and  more  than  the 
storms  of  autumn  or  of  winter,  that  would  keep  me 
back  when  it  is  Aurelian  who  bids  to  the  feast.' 

4  We  owe  you  many  thanks,'  replied  the  Emperor. 
'Would  that  the  loyalty  of  the  parents  were  inherited 
by  the  children  ;'  casting  towards  me,  as  he  saluted  me 
at  the  same  time,  a  look  which  seemed  to  say  that  he 
was  partly  serious,  if  partly  in  jest.  After  mutual  in 
quiries  and  salutations,  we  were  soon  seated  upon 
couches  beneath  a  blaze  of  light  which,  from  the  centre 
of  the  apartment,  darted  its  brightness,  as  it  had  been 
the  sun  itself,  to  every  part  of  the  room. 

'  It  is  no  light  sorrow  to  a  mother's  heart,'  said  Portia, 
'  to  know  that  her  two  sons,  and  her  only  sons,  are,  one 
the  open  enemy  of  his  country,  the  other — what  shall 
I  term  you,  Lucius  ? — an  innovator  upon  her  ancient 
institutions  ;  and  while  he  believes  and  calls  himself — 
sincerely,  I  doubt  not  —  the  friend  of  his  country,  is  in 
truth,  as  every  good  Roman  would  say  —  not  an  enemy, 
my  son,  I  cannot  use  that  word,  but  as  it  were  —  an  un 
conscious  injurer.  Would  that  the  conqueror  of  the 
world  had  power  to  conquer  this  boy's  will  ! ' 

•  Aurelian,  my  mother,'  I  replied,  *  did  he  possess  tht, 
power,  would  hesitate  to  use  it  in  such  a  cause.  But 
it  is  easy  to  see  that  it  would  demand  infinitely  more 
power  to  change  one  honest  mind  than  to  subdue  even 
the  world  by  the  sword.' 


AURELIAN.  71 

Aurelian  for  a  brief  moment  looked  as  if  he  had  re' 
ceived  a  personal  affront. 

.*  How  say  you,'  said  he,  *  demands  it  more  power  to 
change  one  mind  than  conquer  a  world  ?  Methinks  it 
might  be  done  with  something  less.  My  soldiers  often 
maintain  with  violence  a  certain  opinion  ;  but  I  find  it 
not  difficult  to  cause  them  to  let  it  go,  and  take  mine  in 
its  place.  The  arguments  I  use  never  fail.* 

1  That  may  be,'  I  replied,  '  in  matters  of  little  moment. 
Even  in  these  however,  is  it  not  plain,  Aurelian,  that 
you  cause  them  not  to  let  go  their  opinion,  but  merely 
to  suppress  it,  or  affect  to  change  it  ?  Your  power  may 
compel  them  either  to  silence,  or  to  an  assertion  of  the 
very  contrary  of  what  they  but  just  before  had  declared 
as  their  belief,  but  it  cannot  alter  their  minds.  That  is 
to  be  done  by  reason  only,  not  by  force.' 

'  By  reason  first,'  answered  the  emperor  ;  '  but  if  that 
fail,  then  by  force.  The  ignorant,  and  the  presumptu 
ous,  and  the  mischievous,  must  be  dealt  with  as  we  deal 
with  children.  If  we  argue  with  them,  it  is  a  favor. 
It  is  our  right,  as  it  is  better,  to  command  and  compel.' 

'  Only  establish  it  that  such  and  such  are  ignorant, 
and  erroneous,  and  presumptuous,  and  I  allow  that  it 
would  be  right  to  silence  them.  But  that  is  the  very 
difficulty  in  the  case.  How  are  we  to  know  that  they, 
who  think  differently  from  ourselves,  are  ignorant  or 
erroneous  ?  Surely  the  fact  of  the  difference  is  not 
satisfactory  proof.' 

*  They,'  rejoined  Aurelian,  *  who  depart  from  a  cer 
tain  standard  in  art  are  said  to  err.  The  thing  in  this 
case  is  of  no  consequence  to  any,  therefore  no  punish 
ment  ensues.  So  there  is  a  standard  of  religion  in  the 


72  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

State,  and  they  who  depart  from  it  may  be  said  to  err. 
But,  as  religion  is  essential  to  the  State,  they  who  err 
should  be  brought  back,  by  whatever  application  of  forc.e, 
and  compelled  to  conform  to  the  standard.' 

'  In  what  sense,'  said  Portia,  '  can  common  and  igno 
rant  people  be  regarded  as  fit  judges  of  what  constitutes, 
or  does  not  constitute,  a  true  religion  ?  It  is  a  subject 
level  scarce  to  philosophers.  If,  indeed,  the  gods  should 
vouchsafe  to  descend  to  earth  and  converse  with  men, 
and  in  that  manner  teach  some  new  truth,  then  any  one, 
possessed  of  eyes  and  ears,  might  receive  it,  and  retain 
it  without  presumption.  Nay,  he  could  not  but  do  so  ; 
but  not  otherwise.' 

*  Now  have  you    stated,'  said  I,  '  that  which  consti 
tutes  the  precise  case  of  Christianity.     They  who  re 
ceived  Christianity  in  the  first   instance,  did    it   n'ot  by 
balancing  against  each  other  such  refined  arguments  as 
philosophers  use.     They  were  simply  judges  of  matters 
of    fact — of  what  their  eyes    beheld,    and    their  ears 
heard.     God  did  vouchsafe  to  descend  to  earth,  and,  by 
his  messenger,  con  verse  with  men,  and  teach  new  truth. 
All  that  men  had  then   to  do  was   this,  to  see  whether 
the  evidence  was  sufficient  that  it  was  a  God  speaking ; 
and  that  being  made  plain,  to  listen   and   record.     And 
at  this  day,  all  that  is  to  be  done  is  to  inquire    whether 
the  record  be  true.     If  the  record  be  a  well-authentica 
ted  one  of  what  the   mouth  of  God    spoke,  it   is    then 
adopted  as  the  code  of  religious  truth.     As  for  what  the 
word  contains  —  it  requires  no  acute  intellect   to  judge 
concerning  it  —  a  child  may  understand  it  all.' 

*  Truly,'  replied  Portia,  '  this  agrees  but  ill  with  what 
I  have  heard  and  believed  concerning  Christianity.     It 


AURELIANi  73 

has  ever  been  set  forth  as  a  thing  full  of  darkness  and 
mystery,  which  it  requires  the  most  vigorous  powers  to 
penetrate  and  comprehend.' 

'  So  has  it  ever  been  presented  to  me,'  added  the  Em 
peror.     *  I  have  conceived  it  to  be  but  some  new  form 
of    Plato's   dreams,  neither   more    clear   in    itself,  nor 
promising  to  be  of  more  use  to  mankind.      So,  if  I  err 
not,  the  learned  Porphyrius  has  stated  it.' 

'  A  good  fact,'  here  interposed  Julia,  '  is  worth  more 
in  this  argument  than  the  learning  of  the  most  learn 
ed.  Is  it  not  sufficient  proof,  Aurelian,  that  Christiani 
ty  is  somewhat  sufficiently  plain  and  easy,  that  women 
are  able  to  receive  it  so  readily  ?  Take  me  as  an 
unanswerable  argument  on  the  side  of  Piso.' 

1  The  women  of  Palmyra,'  replied  the  Emperor, '  as  I 
have  good  reason  to  know,  are  more  than  the  men  of 
other  climes.  She  who  reads  Plato  and  the  last  essays 
of  Plotinus,  of  a  morning,  seated  idly  beneath  the 
shadow  of  some  spreading  beech,  just  as  a  Roman  girl 
would  the  last  child's  story  of  Spurius  about  father  Ti 
ber  and  the  Milvian  Bridge,  is  not  to  be  received  in 
this  question  as  but  a  woman,  with  a  woman's  powers 
of  judgment.  When  the  women  of  Rome  receive  their 
faith  as  easily  as  you  do,  then  may  it  be  held  as  an 
argument  for  its  simplicity.  But  let  us  now  break  off 
the  thread  of  this  discourse,  too  severe  for  the  occa 
sion,  and  mingle  with  our  other  friends,  who  by  this 
must  be  arrived.' 

So,  with  these  words, we  left  the  apartment  where  we 
had  been  sitting,  the  Emperor   having   upon  one  side 
Po/tia,  and  on  the  other  Livia,  and  moved  toward  the 
7        VOL.  j. 


74  AURELIAN. 

great  central  rooms  of  the  palace,  where  guests  are  en 
tertained,  and  the  imperial  banquets  held. 

The  company  was  not  numerous  ;  it  was  rather  re 
markable  for  its  selectness.  Among  others  not  less  dis 
tinguished,  there  were  the  venerable  Tacitus,  the  con 
sul  Capitolinus,  Marcellinus  the  senator,  the  prefect 
Varus,  the  priest  Fronto,  the  generals  Probus  and 
Mucapor,  and  a  few  others  of  the  military  favorites  of 
Aurelian. 

Of  the  conversation  at  supper,  I  remember  little  or 
nothing,  only  that  it  was  free  and  light,  each  seeming 
to  enjoy  himself  and  the  companion  who  reclined  next 
to  him.  Aurelian,  with  a  condescending  grace,  which 
no  one  knows  how  better  to  assume  than  he,  urged  the 
wine  upon  his  friends,  as  they  appeared  occasionally  to 
forget  it,  offering  frequently  some  new  and  unheard  of 
kind,  brought  from  Asia,  Greece,  or  Africa,  and  which 
he  would  exalt  to  the  skies  for  its  flavor.  More  than 
once  did  he,  as  he  is  wont  to  do  in  his  sportive  mood, 
deceive  us  ;  for,  calling  upon  us  to  fill  our  goblets  with 
what  he  described  as  a  liquor  surpassing  all  of  Italy, 
and  which  might  serve  for  Hebe  to  pour  out  for  the 
gods,  and  requiring  us  to  drink  it  off  in  honor  of  Bac 
chus,  Pan,  or  Ceres,  we  found,  upon  lifting  our  cups  to 
drain  them,  that  they  had  been  charged  with  some  col 
ored  and  perfumed  medicament  more  sour  or  bitter  than 
the  worst  compound  of  the  apothecary,  or  than  massican 
overheated  in  the  vats.  These  sallies,  coming  from  the 
master  of  the  world,  were  sure  to  be  well  received  ;  his 
satellites,  of  whom  not  a  few,  even  on  this  occasion,  were 
near  himr  being  ready  to  die  with  excess  of  laughter,  — 
the  attendant  slaves  catching  the  jest,  and  enjoying  it 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  75 

with  noisy  vociferation.  I  laughed  with  the  rest,  for  it 
seems  wise  to  propitiate,  by  any  act  not  absolutely  base, 
one,  whose  ambitious  and  cruel  nature,  unless  soothed 
and  appeased  by  such  offerings,  is  so  prone  to  reveal 
itself  in  deeds  of  darkness. 

When  the  feast  was  nearly  ended,  and  the  attending 
slaves  were  employed  in  loading  it  for  the  last  time 
with  fruits,  olives,  and  confections,  a  troop  of  eunuchs, 
richly  habited,  .entered  the  apartment  to  the  sound  of 
flutes  and  horns,  bearing  upon  a  platter  of  gold  an  im 
mense  bowl  or  vase  of  the  same  material,  filled  to  the 
brim  with  wine,  which  ihey  placed  in  the  centre  of  the 
table,  and  then,  at  the  command  of  the  Emperor,  with  a 
ladle  of  the  same  precious  material  and  ornamented 
with  gems,  served  out  the  wine  to  the  company.  At 
first,  as  the  glittering  pageant  advanced,  astonishment 
kept  us  mute,  and  caused  us  involuntarily  to  rise  from 
our  couches  to  watch  the  ceremony  of  introducing  it, 
and  fixing  it  in  its  appointed  place.  For  never  before, 
in  Rome,  had  there  been  seen,  I  am  sure,  a  golden  ves 
sel  of  such  size,  or  wrought  with  art  so  marvellous. 
The  language  of  wonder  and  pleasure  was  heard,  on 
every  side,  from  every  mouth.  Even  Livia  and  Julia, 
who  in  Palmyra  had  been  used  to  the  goblets  and  wine- 
cups  of  the  Eastern  Demetrius,  showed  amazement,  not 
less  than  the  others,  at  a  magnificence  and  a  beauty 
that  surpassed  all  experience,  and  all  conception.  Just 
above  where  the  bowl  was  placed,  hung  the  principal 
light,  by  which  the  table  and  the  apartment  were  illu 
minated,  which,  falling  in  floods  upon  the  wrought 
or  polished  metal  and  the  thickly  strewed  diamonds, 
caused  it  to  blaze  with  a  splendor  which  the  eyes  could 


76 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A 


hardly  bear,  and,  till  accustomed  to  it,  prevented  ug 
from  minutely  examining  the  sculpture,  that,  with 
lavish  profusion  and  consummate  art,  glowed  and  burn 
ed  upon  the  pedestal,  the  swelling  sides,  the  rim  and 
handles  of  the  vase,  and  covered  the  broad  and  golden 
plain  upon  which  it  stood.  I,  happily,  was  near  it.  be 
ing  seated  opposite  Aurelian,  and  on  the  inner  side  ol 
the  table,  which,  as  the  custom  now  is,  was  of  the  form 
of  a  bent  bow,  so  that  I  could  study  at  my  leisure  the 
histories  and  fables  that  were  wrought  over  its  whole 
surface.  Julia  and  Livia,  being  also  near  it  on  the 
other  side  of  the  table,  were  in  the  same  manner  wholly 
absorbed  in  the^  same  agreeable  task. 

Livia,  being  quite  carried  out  of  herself  by  this  sud 
den  and  unexpected  splendor  —  having  evidently  no 
knowledge  of  its  approach  —  like  a  girl  as  she  still  is, 
in  her  natural,  unpremeditated  movements,  rose  from 
her  couch  and  eagerly  bent  forward  toward  the  vase, 
the  better  to  scan  its  beauties,  saying,  as  she  did  so, 

'  The  Emperor  must  himself  stand  answerable  for  all 
breaches  of  order  under  circumstances  like  these.  Good 
friends,  let  all,  who  will,  freely  approach,  and,  leaving 
for  a  moment  that  of  Bacchus,  drink  at  the  fountain  of 
Beauty.'  Whereupon  all,  who  were  so  disposed,  gath 
ered  round  the  centre  of  the  table. 

*  This,'  said  Varus,  '  both  for  size,  and  the  perfect  art 
lavished  upon  it,  surpasses  the  glories  fabled  of  the 
buckler  of  Minerva,  whose  fame  has  reached  us.' 

'  You  say  right ;  it  does  so,'  said  the  Emperor  '  That 
dish  of  Vitellius  was  inferior  in  workmanship,  as  it  was 
less  in  weight  and  size  than  this,  which,  before  you  all 


AURELIAN.  77 

I  here  name  "  THE  CUP  OF  LIVIA."  Let  us  fill  again 
from  it,  and  drink  to  the  Empress  of  the  world.' 

All  sprang  in  eager  haste  to  comply  with  a  command 
thai  carried  with  it  its  own  enforcement. 

*  Whatever,'  continued  the  Emperor,  when  our  cups 
had  been  drained,  *  may  have  been  the  condition  of  art 
in  other  branches  of  it,  in  the  time  of  that  Emperor, 
there  was  no  one  then  whose  power  over  the  metals, 
or  whose  knowledge  of  forms,  was  comparable  with  that 
of  our  own  Demetrius  ;  for  this,  be  it  known,  is  the 
sole  work  of  the  Roman  —  and  yet,  to  speak  more  tru 
ly,  it  must  be  said  the  Greek  —  Demetrius,  aided  by 
his  brother  from  the  East,  who  is  now  wtth  him.  Let 
the  music  cease  ;  we  need  that  disturbance  no  more  ; 
and  call  in  the  brothers  Demetrius.  These  are  men 
who  honor  any  age,  and  any  presence.' 

The  brothers  soon  entered  ;  and  never  were  princes 
or  ambassadors  greeted  with  higher  honor.  All  seemed 
to  contend  which  should  say  the  most  flattering  and 
agreeable  thing.  J  Slaves,'  cried  the  Emperor,  '  a  couch 
and  cups  for  the  Demetrii.' ' 

The  brothers  received  all  this  courtesy  with  the  na 
tive  ease  and  dignity  which  ever  accompany  true 
genius.  There  was  no  offensive  boldness,  or  presu 
ming  vanity,  but  neither  was  there  any  shrinking  cow 
ardice  nor  timidity.  They  felt  that  they  were  men,  not 
less  distinguished  by  the  gods,  than  many  or  most  of 
those,  in  whose  presence  they  were,  and  they  were  suf 
ficient  to  themselves.  The  Roman  Demetrius  resem 
bles  much  his  brother  of  Palmyra,  but,  in  both  form  and 
countenance,  possesses  beauty  of  a  higher  order.  His 
7*  VOL.  i 


'8  AURELIAN. 

*ook  is  contemplative  and  inward  ;  his  countenance 
pale  and  yet  dark  ;  his  features  regular  and  exactly 
shaped,  like  a  Greek  statue  ;  his  hair  short  and  black ; 
his  dress,  as  was  that  of  him  of  Palmyra,  of  the  rich 
est  stuffs,  showing  that  wealth  had  become  their  re 
ward  as  well  as  fame. 

'  Let  us,'  cried  the  Emperor,  '  in  full  cups,  drawn 
from  the  Livian  fount,  do  honor  to  ourselves,  and  the 
arts,  by  drinking  to  the  health  of  Demetrius  of  Palmyra, 
and  Demetrius  of  Rome.'  Every  cup  was  filled,  and 
drained.  *  We  owe  you  thanks,'  then  added  Aurelian, 
'that  you  have  completed  this  great  work  at  the  time 
promised  ;  though  I  fear  it  has  been  to  your  own  cost, 
for  the  paleness  of  your  cheeks  speaks  not  of  health.' 

1  The  work,'  replied  the  Roman  Demetrius,  *  could 
not  have  been  completed  but  for  the  timely  and  effectu 
al  aid  of  my  Eastern  brother,  to  whose  learned  hand, 
quicker  in  its  execution  than  my  own,  you  are  indebted 
for  the  greater  part  of  the  sculptures,  upon  both  the  bowl 
and  dish.' 

« It  is  true,  noble  Emperor,'  said  the  impetuous  brother, 
'  my  hand  is  the  quicker  of  the  two,  and  in  some  parts 
of  this  work,  especially  in  whatever  pertains  to  the 
East,  and  to  the  forms  of  building  or  of  vegetation,  or 
costume  seen  chiefly  or  only  there,  my  knowledge  was 
perhaps  more  exact  and  minute  than  his  ;  but,  let  it  be 
received,  that  the  head  that  could  design  these  forms 
and  conceive  and  arrange  these  histories,  and  these 
graceful  ornaments  —  to  my  mind  more  fruitful  of  gen 
ius  than  all  else  — observe  you  them  ?  have  you  scan, 
ned  them  all  ?  —  belongs  to  no  other  than  Demetrius  of 
Home.  In  my  whole  hand,  there  resides  not  the  skill 


AU  RE  LI  AN.  79 

ihat  is  lodged  in  one  of  his  fingers  ; —  nor,  in  my  whole 
head,  the  power  that  lies  behind  one  of  his  eyes.' 

The  enthusiasm  of  the  Eastern  brother  called  up  a 
smile  upon  the  faces  of  all,  and  a  blush  upon  the  white 
cheek  of  the  Roman. 

'  My  brother  is  younger  than  I,'  he  said,  *  and  his 
blood  runs  quicker.  All  that  he  says,  though  it  be  a 
picture  of  the  truest  heart  ever  lodged  in  man,  is  yet  to 
be  taken  with  abatement.  But  for  him,  this  work 
would  have  been  far  below  its  present  merit.  Let  me 
ask  you  especially  to  mark  the  broad  border,  where  is 
set  forth  the  late  triumph,  and  ambassadors,  captives, 
and  animals  of  all  parts  of  the  earth,  especially  of  the. 
East,  are  seen  in  their  appropriate  forms  and  habits. 
That  is  all  from  the  chisel  of  my  brother.  Behold 
here  ' — and  rising  he  approached  the  vase,  and  vast  as 
it  was,  by  a  touch,  so  was  it  constructed,  turned  it 
round — 'behold  here,  where  is  figured  the  Great  Queen 
of —  '  ;  in  the  enthusiasm  of  art,  he  had  forgotten  for.  a 
moment  to  whom  he  was  speaking  ;  for  at  that  instant 
his  eye  fell  upon  the  countenance  of  Julia,  who  stood 
near  him,  —  while  hers  at  the  same  moment  caught  the 
regal  form  of  Zenobia,  bent  beneath  the  weight  of  her 
golden  chains — and  which  he  saw  cast  down  by  an 
uncontrollable  grief.  He  paused,  confused  and  grieved 
—  saying,  as  he  turned  back  the  vase,  *  Ah  me  !  cruel 
and  indiscreet  !  Pardon  me,  noble  ladies  !  and  yet  I 
deserve  it  not.' 

f  Go  on,  go  on,  Demetrius,'  said  Julia,  assuming  i, 
cheerful  air.  *  You  offend  me  not.  The  course  of  Em» 
pire  must  have  its  way  ;  individuals  are  but  emmets  in 
the  path.  I  am  now  used  to  this,  believe  me.  It  is  fo 


80  AURELIAN, 

you  rather,  and  the  rest,  to  forgive  in  me  a  sudden 
weakness.' 

Demetrius,  thus  commanded,  resumed,  and  then  with 
minuteness,  with  much  learning  and  eloquence,  dis 
coursed  successively  upon  the  histories,  or  emblematic 
devices,  of  this  the  chief  work  of  his  hands.  All  were 
sorry  when  he  ceased. 

1  To  what  you  have  overlooked,'  said  Aurelian,  as  he 
paused,  *  must  I  call  you  back,  seeing  it  is  that  part  of 
the  work  which  I  most  esteem,  and  in  which  at  this 
moment  I  and  all,  I  trust,  are  most  interested  —  the 
sculptures  upon  the  platter  ;  which  represent  the  new 
temple  and  ceremonies  of  the  dedication,  which  to-mor 
row  we  celebrate.' 

'  Of  this,'  replied  Demetrius,  '  I  said  less,  because 
perhaps  the  work  is  inferior,  having  been  committed, 
our  time  being  short,  to  the  hands  of  a  pupil  —  a  pupil, 
however,  I  beg  to  say,  who,  if  the  Divine  Providence 
spare  him,  will  one  day,  and  that  not  a  remote  one,  cast 
a  shadow  upon  his  teachers.' 

•  That  will  he,'  said  the  brother  ;  '  Flaccus  is  full  of 
the  truest  inspiration.' 

'  But  to  the  dedication  —  the  dedication,'  interrupted 
the  hoarse  voice  of  Pronto. 

Demetrius  started,  and  shrunk  backward  a  step  at 
that  sound,  but  instantly  recovered  himself,  and  read 
into  an  intelligible  language  many  of  the  otherwise  ob 
scure  and  learned  details  of  the  work.  As  he  ended, 
the  Emperor  said, 

•  We  thank  you,  Demetrius,  for  your  learned  lecture, 
which  has  given  a  new  value  to  your  labors     And  now, 


AUEBLIAN.  81 

while  it  is  in  my  mind,  let  me  bespeak,  as  soor  as 
leisure  and  inclination  shall  serve,  a  silver  statue, gilded, 
of  Apollo,  for  the  great  altar,  which  to-morrow  will 
scarce  be  graced  with  such  a  one  as  will  agree  with  the 
temple  and  its  other  ornaments.' 

Demetrius,  as  this  was  uttered,  again  started,  and  his 
countenance  became  of  a  deadly  paleness.  He  hesitated 
a  moment,  as  if  studying  how  to  order  his  words  so  as  to 
express  least  offensively  an  offensive  truth.  On  the  in 
stant,  I  suspected  what  the  truth  was  ;  but  I  was  wholly 
unprepared  for  it.  I  had  received  no  intimation  of 
such  a  thing. 

'  Great  Emperor,'  he  began,  'I  am  sorry  to  say  — 
and  yet  not  sorry — that  I  cannot  now,  as  once,  labor  for 
the  decoration  of  the  temples  and  their  worship.  I 
am — ' 

*  Ye  gods  of  Rome  ! — '  cried  Pronto. 

'  Peace,'  said  the  Empercr  ;  '  let  him  be  heard.  How 
say  you  ? ' 

'  I  am  now  a  Christian  ;  and  I  hold  it  not  lawful  to 
bestow  my  power  and  skill  in  the  workmanship  of  gods, 
in  whom  I  believe  not,  and  thus  become  the  instrument 
of  an  erroneous  faith  in  others.' 

This  was  uttered  firmly,  but  with  modesty.  The 
countenance  of  the  Emperor  was  overclouded  for  a  mo 
ment.  But  it  partially  cleared  up  again,  as  he  said, 

'  I  lay  not,  Demetrius,  the  least  constraint  upon  you. 
The  four  years  that  I  have  held  this  power  in  Rome 
have  been  years  of  freedom  to  my  people  in  this  re. 
spect.  Whether  I  have  done  well  in  that,.for  our  city 
and  the  empire,  many  would  doubt.  I  almost  doubt 
myself.' 


S2  AURELIAN. 

'  That  would  they,  by  Hercules,'  said  the  soft 
voice  of  Varus  just  at  my  ear,  and  intended  chiefly 
for  me. 

*  My  brother,'  said  Demetrius,   '  will  be  happy  to  ex 
ecute    for  the  Emperor,  the  work  which   he  has  been 
pleased  to  ask  of  me.     He  remains  steadfast  in  the  faith 
in  which  he  was  reared  ;  the  popular  faith  of  Athens.' 

*  Apollo,'  said  Demetrius  of  Palmyra,  '  is  my  especial 
favorite  among  all  the  gods,  and  of  him  have  I  wrought 
more  statues  in  silver,  gold,  or  ivory,  or   of  these  vari 
ously  and  curiously  combined,  than  of  all  the  others.     If 
I  should  be   honored  in  this  labor,  I   should  request  to 
be  permitted  to  adopt  the  marble  image,  now  standing 
in  the  baths  of  Caracalla,  and  once,  it  is  said,  the  chief 
wonder  of  Otho's  palace  of  wonders,  as  a  model  after 
which,  with  some   deviations,  to  mould  it.      I  think  I 
could  make  that,  that  should  satisfy  Aurelian  and  Rome.' 

'  Do  it,  do  it,'  said  the  Emperor,  '  and  let  it  be  seen, 
that  the  worshipper  of  his  country's  gods  is  not  behind 
him,  who  denies  them,  in  his  power  to  do  them  honor.' 

'  I  shall  not  sleep,'  said  the  artist,  '.till  I  have  made  a 
model,  in  wax  at  least,  of  what  at  this  moment  presents 
itself  to  my  imagination.'  Saying  which,  with  little 
ceremony  —  as  if  the  Empire  depended  upon  his  reach 
ing,  on  the  instant,  his  chalk  and  wax,  and  to  the  infi 
nite  amusement  of  the  company  —  he  rose  and  darted 
from  the  apartment,  the  slaves  making  way,  as  for  a 
missile  that  it  might  be  dangerous  to  obstruct. 

'  But  in  what  way,'  said  Aurelian,  turning  to  the 
elder  Demetrius,  'have  you  been  wrought  upon  to  a- 
bandon  the  time-honored  religion  of  Rome  ?  Methinks, 
the  whole  world  is  becoming  of  this  persuasion.' 


AURELIAN 


83 


'  If  I  may  speak  freely  — ' 

'  With  utmost  freedom,'  said  Aurelian. 

'  I  may  then  say,  that  ever  since  the  power  to  reflect 
upon  matters  so  deep  and  high  had  been  mine,  I  had 
first  doubted  the  truth  of  the  popular  religion,  and  then 
soon  rejected  it,  as  what  brought  to  me  neither  comfort 
nor  hope,  and  was  also  burdened  with  things  essentially 
incredible  and  monstrous.  For  many  years,  many  wea 
ry  years  —  for  the  mind  demands  something  positive  in 
this  quarter,  it  cannot  remain  in  suspense,  and  vacant  — 
I  was  without  belief.  Why  it  was  so  long,  before  I 
turned  to  the  Christians,  I  know  not;  unless,  because  of 
the  reports  which  were  so  common  to  their  disadvan 
tage,  and  the  danger  which  has  so  often  attended  a  pro 
fession  of  their  faith.  At  length,  in  a  fortunate  hour, 
there  fell  into  my  hands  the  sacred  books  of  the  Chris 
tians  ;  and  I  needed  little  besides  to  show  me,  that 
theirs  is  a  true  and  almighty  faith,  and  that  all  that  is 
current  in  the  city  to  its  dishonor  is  false  and  calum 
nious.  I  am  now  happy,  not  only  as  an  artist  and  a 
Roman,  but  as  a  man  and  an  immortal.' 

*  You  speak  earnestly,'  said  Aurelian. 

'  I  feel  so,'  replied  Demetrius  ;  a  generous  glow  light 
ing  up  his  pale  countenance. 

4  Would,'  rejoined  the  Emperor,  *  that  some  of  the 
zeal  of  these  Christians  might  be  infused  into  the  slug 
gish  spirits  of  our  own  people.  The  ancient  faith  suf 
fers  through  neglect,  and  the  prevailing  impiety  of  those 
vvho  are  its  disciples.' 

4  May  it  not  rather  be,'  said  Fronto,  '  that  the  ancient 
religion  of  the  State,  having  so  long  been  neglected  by 
those  who  are  its  appointed  guardians,  to  the  extent  tha' 


SJ  ACRULIAJJ. 

*ven  Judaism,  and  now  Christianhy — which  are  hut 
disguised  forms  of  Atheism  —  have  been  allowed  to  in 
sinuate,  and  intrench  themselves  in  the  Empire  ;  the 
gods,  now  in  anger,  turn  away  from  us,  who  have  heen 
so  unfaithful  to  ourselves  ;  and  thus  this  plausible  im 
piety  is  permitted  to  commit  its  havocs.  I  believe  the 
gods  are  ever  faithful  to  the  faithful.' 

'  What  good  citizen,  too,'  added  Varus,  '  but  must  la 
ment  to  witness  the  undermining,  and  supplanting  of 
those  venerable  forms,  under  which  this  universal  em 
pire  has  grown  to  its  present  height  of  power  ?  He  is 
scarcely  a  Roman  who  denies  the  gods  of  Rome,  how 
ever  observant  he  may  be  of  her  laws  and  other  insti 
tutions.  Religion  is  her  greatest  law.' 

*  These  are  hard  questions,'  said  the  Emperor.    *  For, 
know  you  not,  that  some  of  our  noblest,  and  fairest,  and 
most  beloved,  have  written  themselves  followers  of  this 
Gallilean  God  ?     How  can  we  deal  sharply  with  a  peo 
ple,  at  whose  head  stands  the  chief  of  the  noble  house  of 
the  Pisos,  and  a  princess  of  the  blood  of  Palmyra  ? ' 

Although  Aurelian  uttered  these  words  in  a  manner 
almost  sportive  to  the  careless  ear,  yet  I  confess  myself 
to  have  noticed  at  the  moment,  an  expression  of  the 
countenance,  and  a  tone  in  the  voice,  which  gave  me 
uneasiness.  I  was  about  to  speak,  when  the  vener 
able  Tacitus  addressed  the  Emperor,  and  said, 

*  I  can  never  think  it  wise  to  interfere  with  violence, 
in  the  matter  of  men's  worship.     It  is  impossible,  I  be 
lieve,  to  compel  mankind  to  receive  any  one   institution 
of  religon,  because  different  tribes  of  men,   different  by 
nature  and  by  education,  will  and  do  demand,  not  the 
same,  but  different  forms  of  belief  and  worship.     Why 


Ad  RE  LI  AN.  85 

should  they  be  alike  in  this,  while  they  separate  so 
widely  in  oth^:1  matters  ?  and  can  it  be  a  more  hopeful 
enterprise  to  oblige  them  to  submit  to  the  same  rules  ii? 
their  religion,  than  it  would  be  to  compel  them  to  feed 
on  the  same  food,  and  use  the  same  forms  of  language 
or  dress  ?  I  know  that  former  emperors  have  thought 
and  acted  differently.  They  have  deemed  it  a  possible 
thing  to  restore  the  ancient  unity  of  worship,  by  punish 
ing  with  severity,  by  destroying  the  lives  even,  of  such 
as  should  dare  to  think  for  themselves.  But  their  con 
duct  is  not  to  be  defended,  either  as  right  in  itself  or  best 
for  the  state.  It  has  not  been  just  or  wise,  as  policy.  For 
is  it  not  evident,  how  oppression  of  those  who  believe 
themselves  to  be  possessed  of  truth  important  to  man 
kind,  serves  but  to  bind  them  the  more  closely  to  their 
opinions  ?  Are  they,  for  a  little  suffering,  to  show  them 
selves  such  cowards  as  to  desert  their  own  convictions, 
and  prove  false  to  the  interests  of  multitudes  ?  Rather, 
say  they,  let  us  rejoice,  in  such  a  cause,  to  bear  reproach. 
This  is  the  language  of  our  nature.  Nay,  such  persons 
come  to  prize  suffering,  to  make  it  a  matter  of  pride  and 
boasting.  Their  rank  among  themselves  is,  by  and  by, 
determined  by  the  readiness  with  which  they  offer 
themselves  as  sacrifices  for  truth  and  God.  Are  such 
persons  to  be  deterred  by  threats,  or  the  actual  infliction 
of  punishment  ?' 

'  The  error  has  been,'  here  said  the  evil-boding 
Fronto,  '  that  the  infliction  of  punishment  went  not  to 
the  extent  that  is  indispensable  to  the  success  of  such  a 
work.  The  noble  Piso  will  excuse  me  ;  we  are  but 
dealing  with  abstractions.  Oppress  those  who  are  in 
8  VOL.  i. 


86  AURELIAN. 

error,  only  to  a  certain  point,  not  extreme,  and  it  is  most 
true  they  cling  the  closer  to  their  error.  We  see  this 
in  the  punishment  of  children.  Their  obstinacy  and 
pride  are  increased,  by  a  suffering  which  is  slight,  and 
which  seems  to  say  to  the  parent,  '  He  is  too  timid, 
weak,  or  loving,  to  inflict  more.'  So  too  with  our  slaves. 
Whose  slaves  ever  rose  a  second  time  against  the 
master's  authority,  whose  first  offence,  however  slight, 
was  met,  not  by  words  or  lashes,  but  by  racks  and 
the  cross  ?  ' 

*  Nay,  good   Fronto,   hold  ;    your  zeal  for  the  gods 
bears  you  away  beyond  the  bounds  of  courtesy.' 

*  Forgive  me  then,  great  sovereign,    and    you    who 
are    here  —  if  you    may;    but   neither  time   nor  place 
shall  deter  me,  a  minister  of  the  great  god  of  light,  from 
asserting  the  principles  upon  which    his    worship  rests, 
and,  as  I  deem,  the  Empire   itself.     Under  Decius,  had 
true  Romans  sat  on  the  tribunals;  had  no  hearts,  too  soft 
for  such  offices,  turned    traitors   to    the    head  ;  had   no 
accursed   spirit  of  avarice   received   the   bribes    which 
procured  security,  to  individuals,  families,  and  commu 
nities  ;  had  there  been  no  commutations  of  punishment, 
then  —  ' 

'  Peace,  I  say,  Fronto  ;  thou  marrest  the  spirit  of 
the  hour.  How  came  we  thus  again  to  this  point  ? 
Such  questions  are  for  the  Council-room  or  the  Seri 
ate.  Yet,  truth  to  say,  so  stirred  seems  the  mind  of 
this  whole  people  in  the  matter,  that,  in  battle,  one  may 
as  well  escape  from  the  din  of  clashing  arms,  or  the 
groans  of  the  dying,  as,  in  Rome,  avoid  this  argument. 
Nay,  by  my  sword,  not  a  voice  can  I  hear,  either  ap 
plauding,  disputing,  or  condemning,  since  I  have  set  on 


AURELIAN.  87 

foot  this  new  war  in  the  East.  Once,  the  city  would 
have  rung-  with  acclamations,  that  an  army  was  gather 
ing-  for  such  an  enterprise.  Now,  it  seems  quite  for 
gotten  that  Valerian  once  fell,  or  that,  late  though  it  be, 
he  ought  to  be  avenged.  This  Jewish  and  Christian 
argument  fills  all  heads,  and  clamors  on  every  tongue. 
Come,  let  us  shake  off  this  dasmon  in  a  new  cup,  and 
drink  deep  to  the  revenge  of  Valerian.' 

'  And  of  the  gods,'  ejaculated  Pronto,  as  he  lifted  the 
goblet  to  his  lips. 

*  There  again  ? '  quickly  and  sharply  demanded  Au- 
relian,  bending  his  dark  brows  upon  the  offender. 

'  Doubtless,'  said  Portia,  '  he  means  well,  though 
over  zealous,  and  rash  in  speech.  His  heart,  I  am  sure, 
seconds  not  the  cruel  language  of  his  tongue.  So  at 
least  I  will  believe  ;  and,  in  the  meantime,  hope,  that  the 
zeal  he  has  displayed  for  the  ancient  religion  of  our 
country,  may  not  be  without  its  use  upon  some  pres 
ent,  who,  with  what  I  trust  will  prove  a  brief  truancy, 
have  wandered  from  their  household  gods,  and  the 
temples  of  their  fathers.' 

'  May  the  gods  grant  it,'  added  Livia  ;  '  and  restore 
the  harmony,  which  should  reign  in  our  families,  and  in 
the  capital.  Life  is  over  brief  to  be  passed  in  quarrel. 
Now  let  us  abandon  our  cups.  Sir  Christian  Piso  ! 
lead  me  to  the  gardens,  and  let  the  others  follow  as  they 
may  our  good  example.' 

The  gardens  we  found,  as  we  passed  from  the  palace, 
to  be  most  brilliantly  illuminated  with  lamps  of  every 
form  and  hue.  We  seemed  suddenly  to  have  passed 
to  another  world,  so  dream-Jike  was  the  effect  of  the 
multitudinous  lights  as  they  fell  with  white,  red,  lurid, 


S3  AURELI  AN  . 

or  golden  glare,  upon  bush  or  tre^i,  grotto,  statue,  or 
marble  fountain 

'  Forget  here,  Lucius  Piso,''  said  the  kind-hearted 
Livia,  '  what  you  have  just  heard  from  the  lips  of  that 
harsh  bigot,  the  savage  Pronto.  Who  could  have 
looked  for  such  madness  !  Not  again,  if  I  possess  the 
power  men  say  I  do,  shall  he  sit  at  the  table  of  Au- 
relian.  Poor  Julia  too  !  But  see  !  she  walks  with 
Tacitus.  Wisdom  and  mercy  are  married  in  him,  and 
both  will  shed  comfort  on  her.' 

'  I  cannot  but  lament,'  I  replied,  *  that  a  creature  like 
Pronto  should  have  won  his  way  so  far  into  the  confi 
dence  of  Aurelian.  But  I  fear  him  not  ;  and  do  not  be 
lieve  that  he  will  have  power  to  urge  the  Emperor  to 
the  adoption  of  measures,  to  which  his  own  wisdom 
and  native  feelings  must  stand  opposed.  The  rage  of 
such  men  as  Pronto,  and  the  silent  pity  and  scorn  of 
men  immeasurably  his  superiors,  we  have  now  learn 
ed  to  bear  without  complaint,  though  not  without 
some  inward  suffering.  To  be  shut  out  from  the  hearts 
of  so  many,  who  once  ran  to  meet  us  on  our  approach  ; 
nor  only  that,  but  to  be  held  by  them  as  impious  and 
atheistical,  monsters  whom  the  earth  is  sick  of,  and 
whom  the  gods  are  besought  to  destroy  —  this  is  a  part 
of  our  burden  which  we  feel  to  be  heaviest.  Heaven 
preserve  to  us  the  smiles,  and  the  love  of  Livia.' 

4  Doubt  not  that  they  will  ever  be  yours.  But  I  trust 
that  sentiments,  like  those  of  Tacitus,  will  bear  sway  in 
the  councils  of  Aurelian,  and  that  the  prennt  calm 
will  not  be  disturbed.' 

Thus  conversing,  we  wandered  on,  beguiled  by  such 
talk,  and  the  attractive  splendors  of  the  garden,  till  we 


AURELIAN.  oy 

found  ourselves  separated,  apparently  by  some  distance, 
from  our  other  friends  ;  none  passed  us,  and  none  met 
us.  We  had  reached  a  remote  and  solitary  spot,  where 
fewer  lamps  had  been  hung,  and  the  light  was  faint  and 
unequal.  Not  sorry  to  be  thus  alone,  we  seated  our 
selves  on  the  low  pedestal  of  a  group  of  statuary  —  once 
the  favorite  resort  of  the  fair  and  false  Terentia —  whose 
forms  could  scarcely  be  defined,  and  which  was  envel 
oped,  at  a  few  paces  distant,  with  shrubs  and  flowers, 
forming  a  thin  wall  of  partition  between  us  and  another 
walk,  corresponding  to  the  one  we  were  in,  but  wind 
ing  away  in  a  different  direction.  We  had  sat  not 
long,  either  silent  or  conversing,  ere  our  attention  was 
caught  by  the  sound  of  approaching  voices,  apparently 
in  earnest  discourse.  A  moment,  and  we  knew  them 
to  be  those  of  Pronto,  and  Aurelian. 

*  By  the  gods,  his  life  shall  answer  it,'  said  Aurelian 
with  vehemence,  but  with  suppressed  tones  ;  '  who  but 
he  was  to  observe  the  omens  ?  Was  I  to  knew,  that 
to-day  is  the  Ides,  and  to-morrow  the  day  after  ?  The 
rites  must  be  postponed.' 

'  It  were  better  not,  in  my  judgment,'  said  Fronto  , 
*  all  the  other  signs  are  favorable.  Never,  Papirius  as 
sured  me,  did  the  sacred  chickens  seize  so  eagerly  the 
crumbs.  Many  times,  as  he  closely  watched,  did  he 
observe  them  —  which  is  rare  —  drop  them  from  their 
mouths  overfilled.  The  times  he  has  exactly  recorded. 
A  rite  like  this  put  off,  when  all  Kome  is  in  expecta 
tion,  would,  in  the  opinion  of  all  the  world,  be  of  a  more 
unfavorable  interpretation,  than  if  more  than  the  daj 
were  against  us.' 

8*         VOL.  T. 


90  AURELIAN, 

'  You  counsel  well.     Let  it  go  on.' 

1  But  to  ensure  a  fortunate  event,  and  jropitiate  the 
gods,  I  would  early,  and  before  the  august  ceremonies^ 
offer  the  most  costly  and  acceptable  sacrifice.' 

'  That  were  well  also.  In  the  prisons  there  are 
captives  of  Germany,  of  Gaul,  of  Egypt,  and  Palmy 
ra.  Take  what  and  as  many  as  you  will.  If  we 
ever  make  sure  of  the  favor  of  the  gods,  it  is  when  we 
offer  freely  that  which  we  hold  at  the  highest  price.' 

'  I  would  rather  they  were  Christians,'  urged  Pronto. 

'  That  cannot  be,'  said  Aurelian.  *  I  question  if 
there  be  a  Christian  within  the  prison  walls  ;  and,  were 
there  hundreds,  it  is  not  a  criminal  I  would  bring  to 
the  altar,  I  would  as  soon  offer  a  diseased  or  ill-shaped 
bull.' 

*  But  it  were  an   easy   matter   to  seize  such    as  we 
might  want.     Not,  0  Aurelian,    till  this  accursed  race 
is  exterminated,  will    the   heavens    smile   as    formerly 
upon  our  country.     Why  are  the  altars  thus   forsaken  ? 
Why  are  the  temples  no  longer  thronged  as  once  ?  Why 
do  the  great,   and    the    rich,   and    the    learned,  silently 
withhold  their  aid,  or  openly  scofTand  jeer  ?     Why  are 
our  sanctuaries  crowded  only  by  the    scum   and   refuse 
of  the  city  ?  ' 

1  I  know  not.     Question  me  not  thus.' 

*  Is  not  the  reason  palpable   and  gross  to  the  dullest 
mind  ?     Is  it  not  because  of  the  daily  growth  of  thi? 
blaspheming  and  atheistical   crew,  who,  by  horrid  arts 
seduce  the  young,  the  timid,  and  above  all  the  women, 
who  ever    draw   the  world  with  them,  to  join  them  in 
their  unhallowed   orgies,  thus  stripping  the  temples  of 
their   worshippers,  and  dragging  the  gods  themselves 


AURELIAN.  91 

from  their  seats  ?  Think  you  the  gods  look  on  with 
pleasure  while  their  altars  and  temples  are  profaned  or 
abandoned,  and  a  religion,  that  denies  them,  rears  itself 
upon  their  ruins  ?' 

'  I  know  not.     Say  no  more.' 

*  Is  it   possible,  religion   or    the  state  should  prosper, 
while  he,  who  is  not  only  Vicegerent  of  the  gods,  Uni 
versal  Monarch,  but  what  is  more,  their  sworn   Pontifex 
Maximus,  connives  at  the  existence  and  dissemination 
of  the  most  dangerous  opinions  — ' 

'  Thou  liest.' 

'  Harboring  even  beneath  the  imperial  roof,  and 
feasting  at  the  imperial  table,  the  very  heads  and  chief 
ministers  of  this  black  mischief —  ' 

1  Hold,  I  say.  I  swear  by  all  the  gods,  known  and 
unknown,  that  another  word,  and  thy  head  shall  an 
swer  it.  Is  my  soul  that  of  a  lamb,  that  I  need  this 
stirring  up  to  deeds  of  blood  ?  Am  I  so  lame  and  back 
ward,  when  the  gods  are  to  be  defended,  that  I  am  to 
be  thus  charged  ?  Let  the.lion  sleep  when  he  will  ; 
chafed  too  much,  and  he  may  spring  and  slay  at  ran 
dom.  I  love  not  the  Christians,  nor  any  who  flout  the 
gods  and  their  worship  —  that  thou  knowest  well.  But 
I  love  Piso,  Aurelia,  and  the  divine  Julia  —  that  thou 
knowest  as  well.  Now  no  more.' 

*  For  my  life,'  said   Pronto,  '  I  hold  it  cheap,  if  I  may 
but  be  faithful  to  my  .office  and  the  gods.' 

'  I  believe  it,  Pronto.  The  gods  will  reward  theo. 
Let  us  on.' 

in  the  earnestness  of  their  talk  they  had  paused,  and 
stood  just  before  us,  being  separated  but  by  a  thin  screen 
of  shrubs  We  continued  rooted  to  our  seats  while  this 


92  A  TJ  P.  E  L  I  A  N  . 

conversation  went  on,  held  there  both  by  the  impos 
sibility  of  withdrawing  without  observation,  and  by  a 
desire  to  hear — I  confess  it — what  was  thus  in  a  man 
ner  forced  upon  me,  and  concerned  so  nearly,  not  only 
myself,  but  thousands  of  my  fellow-Christians. 

Wlien  they  were  hidden  from  us  by  the  winding  of 
the  path,  we  rose  and  turned  toward  the  palace. 

4  That  savage  !'  said  Livia.  *  How  strange,  that  Au- 
relian,  who  knows  so  well  how  to  subdue  the  world, 
should  have  so  little  power  to  shake  off  this  reptile.' 

'  There  is  power  enough,'  I  replied  ;  '  but  alas  !  I  fear 
the  will  is  wanting.  Superstition  is  as  deep  a  principle 
in  the  breast  of  Aurelian  as  ambition  and  of  that,  Fronto 
is  the  most  fitting  high-priest.  Aurelian  places  him  at 
the  head  of  religion  in  the  state  for  those  very  qualities, 
whose  fierce  expression  has  now  made  us  tremble.  Let 
us  hope  that  the  Emperor  will  remain  where  he  now  is, 
in  a  position  from  which  it  seems  Fronto  is  unable  to 
dislodge  him,  and  all  will  go  well.' 

We  soon  reached  the  palace,  where,  joining  Julia  and 
Portia,  our  chariot  soon  bore  us  to  the  Crelian  Hill. 
Farewell. 


A  U  R  E  L  1  A  N  93 


LETTER    IV 


FROM     P1SO     TO     FAU5TA. 

I  promised  you,  Fausta,  before  the  news  should  reach 
you  in  any  other  way,  to  relate  the  occurrences  and  de 
scribe  the  ceremonies  of  the  day  appointed  for  the  dedi 
cation  of  the  new  Temple  of  the  Sun.  The  day  has 
now  passed,  not  without  incidents  of  even  painful  inter 
est  to  ourselves  and  therefore  to  you,  and  I  sit  down  to 
fulfil  my  engagements. 

Vast  preparations  had  been  making  for  the  occasion, 
for  many  days  or  even  months  preceding,  and  the  day 
arose  upon  a  city  full  of  expectation  of  the  shows,  cere 
monies,  and  games,  that  were  to  reward  their  long  and 
patient  waiting.  For  the  season  of  the  year  the  day 
was  hot,  unnaturally  so  ;  and  the  sky  filled  with  those 
massive  clouds,  piled  like  mountains  of  snow  one  upon 
another,  which,  while  they  both  please  the  eye  by  their 
forms,  and  veil  the  fierce  splendors  of  the  sun,  as  they 
now  and  then  sail  across  his  face,  at  the  same  time  por 
tend  wind  and  storm.  All  Rome  was  early  astir.  It 
was  ushered  in  by  the  criers  traversing  the  streets,  and 
proclaiming  the  rites  and  spectacles  of  the  day,  what 
they  were,  and  where  to  be  witnessed,  followed  by  troops 
of  boys,  imitating,  in  their  grotesque  way,  the  pompous 
declarations  of  the  men  of  authority,  not  unfrequeiitly 
drawing  down  upon  their  heads  the  curses  and  the 
batons  of  the  insulted  dignitaries.  A  troop  of  this  sort 


r>4 


AUR  ELIAN. 


passed  the  windows  of  the  room  in  which  Julia  and  I 
were  sitting  at  our  morning  meal.  As  the  crier  ended 
his  proclamation,  and  the  shouts  of  the  applauding  ur 
chins  died  away,  Milo,  who  is  our  attendant  in  prefer 
ence  to  any  and  all  others,  observed, 

'  That  the  fellow  of  a  crier  deserved  to  have  his 
head  beat  about  with  his  own  rod,  for  coming  round 
with  his  news  not  till  after  the  greatest  show  of  the  day 
was  over.' 

*  What  mean  you  ? '  I  asked.     '  Explain.' 

*  What  should  I  mean,'  he  replied,  '  but  the  morning 
sacrifice  at  the  temple.' 

*  And  what  so   wonderful,'  said   Julia,  '  in  a  morning 
sacrifice  ?     The  temples  are  open   every  morning,  are 
they  not  ?' 

'  Yes,  truly  are  they,'  rejoined  Milo  ;  *  but  not  for 
so  great  a  purpose,  nor  witnessed  by  so  great  crowds, 
Curio  wished  me  to  have  been  there,  and  says  nothing 
could  have  been  more  propitious.  They  died  as  the 
gods  love  to  have  them.' 

1  Was  there  no  bellowing  nor  struggling,  then  ?'  said 
Julia. 

*  Neither,  Curio  assures  me  ;  but  they  met  the  knife 
of  the  priest   as  they  would  the  sword  of  an  enemy  on 
the  field  of  battle.' 

*  How  say  you  ?'  said   Julia,  quickly,  turning   pale  ; 
'do  I  hear  aright,  Milo,  or  are  you  mocking  ?  God  for 
bid  that  you  should  speak  of  a  human  sacrifice.' 

4  It  is  even  so,  mistress.  And  why  should  it  not  be 
so  ?  If  the  favor  of  the  gods,  upon  whom  we  all  depend, 
as  the  priests  tell  us,  is  to  be  purchased  so  well  in  no 
other  way,  what  is  the  life  of  one  man,  or  of  many,  iu 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N.  yO 

such  a  <^ause  ?  The  great  Gallienus,  when  his  life  had 
been  less  ordered  than  usual  after  the  rules  of  tempe 
rance  and  religion,  used  to  make  amends  by  a  few  cap 
tives  slain  to  Jupiter  ;  to  which,  doubtless,  may  be  as 
cribed  his  prosperous  reign.  But,  as  I  was  saying, 
there  was,  so  Curio  informed  me  at  the  market  not 
long  afterwards,  a  sacrifice,  on  the  private  altar  of  the 
temple,  often  captives.  Their  blood  flowed  just  as  the 
great  god  of  the  temple  showed  himself  in  the  horizon, 
It  would  have  done  you  good,  Curio  said,  to  see  with 
what  a  hearty  and  dexterous  zeal  Pronto  struck  the 
knife  into  their  hearts — for  to  no  inferior  minister  would 
he  delegate  the  sacred  office.' 

'  Lucius,'  cried  Julia,  '  I  thought  that  such  offerings 
were  now  no  more.  Is  it  so,  that  superstition  yet  de 
lights  itself  in  the  blood  of  murdered  men  ? ' 

'  It  is  just  so,'  I  was  obliged  to  reply.  *  \Vith  a  peo 
ple  naturally  more  gentle  and  humane  than  we  of  Rome 
this  custom  would  long  ago  have  fallen  into  disuse. 
They  would  have  easily  found  a  way,  as  all  people  do, 
to  conform  their  religious  doctrine  and  offerings  to  their 
feelings  and  instincts.  But  the  Romans,  by  nature  and 
long  training,  lovers  of  blood,  their  country  built  upon 
the  ruins  of  others,  and  cemented  with  blood —  the  taste 
for  it  is  not  easily  eradicated.  There  are  temples 
where  human  sacrifices  have  never  ceased.  Laws  have 
restrained  their  frequency  —  have  forbidden  them,  un 
der  heaviest  penalties,  unless  permitted  by  the  state — but 
these  laws  ever  have  been,  and  are  now  evaded  ;  and  it 
is  the  settled  purpose  of  Pronto,  and  others  of  his 
stamp,  to  restore  to  them  their  lost  honors,  and  make 
them  again,  as  they  used  to  be,  the  chief  rite  in  the 


96  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

worship  of  the  gods.  I  am  not  sorry,  Julia,  that  your 
doubts,  though  so  painfully,  have  yet  been  so  effectual 
ly,  removed.' 

Julia  had  for  some  time  blamed,  as  over-ardent,  the 
zeal  of  the  Christians.  She  had  thought  that  the  evil  of 
the  existing  superstitions  was  over-estimated, and  that  it 
were  wiser  to  pursue  a  course  of  more  moderation  ;  that 
a  system  that  nourished  such  virtues  as  she  found  in 
Portia,  in  Tacitus,  and  others  like  them,  could  not  be  so 
corrupting  in  its  power  as  the  Christians  were  in  the 
habit  of  representing  it ;  that  if  we  could  succeed  in  sub 
stituting  Christianity  quietly,  without  alienating  the 
affections,  or  shocking  too  violently  the  prejudices,  of  the 
believers  in  the  prevailing  superstitions,  our  gain  would 
be  double.  To  this  mode  of  arguing  I  knew  she  was 
impelled,  by  her  love  and  almost  reverence  for  Portia  ; 
and  how  could  I  blame  it,  springing  from  such  a  cause  ? 
I  had,  almost  criminally,  allowed  her  to  blind  herself  in  a 
way  she  never  would  have  done,  had  her  strong  mind 
acted,  as  on  other  subjects,  untrammelled  and  free.  I 
was  not  sorry  that  Milo  had  brought  before  her  mind  a 
fact  which,  however  revolting  in  its  horror  to  such  a 
nature  as  hers,  could  not  but  heal  while  it  wounded. 

'  Milo,'  said  Julia,  as  I  ended,  *  say  now  that  you 
have  been  jesting ;  that  this  is  a  piece  of  wit  with  which 
you  would  begin  in  a  suitable  way  an  extraordinary 
day  ;  this  is  one  of  your  Gallienus  fictions.' 

'  Before  the  gods,'  replied  Milo,  '  I  have  told  you  the 
naked  truth.  But  not  the  whole  ;  for  Curio  left  me 
not  till  he  had  shown  how  each  had  died.  Of  the  ten, 
but  three,  he  averred,  resisted,  or  died  unwillingly.  The 
three  were  Germans  from  beyond  the  Danube — brothers, 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  97 

he  said,  \vhohadlong  lain  in  prison  till  their  bones 
were  ready  to  start  through  the  skin.  Yet  were  they 
not  ready  to  die.  It  seemed  as  if  there  were  something 
tney  longed —  more  even  than  for  life  or  freedom  —  to 
say ;  but  they  might  as  well  have  been  dumb  and 
tongueless,  for  none  understood  their  barbarous  jargon. 
When  they  found  that  their  words  were  in  vain,  they 
wrung  their  hands  in  their  wo,  and  cried  out  aloud  in 
their  agony.  Then,  however,  at  the  stern  voice  of 
Fronto,  warning  them  of  the  hour,  they  ceased  —  em 
braced  each  other,  and  received  the  fatal  blow  ;  the 
others  signified  their  pleasure  at  dying  so,  rather  than 
to  be  thrown  to  wild  beasts,  or  left  to  die  by  slow  degrees 
within  their  dungeon's  walls.  Two  rejoiced  that  it  was 
their  fate  to  pour  out  their  blood  upon  the  altar  of  a  god, 
and  knelt  devoutly  before  the  uplifted  knife  of  Fronto. 
Never,  said  Curio,  was  there  a  more  fortunate  offer 
ing.  Aurelian  heard  the  report  of  it  with  lively  joy, 
and  said  that  'now  all  would  go  well.'  Curio  is  a  good 
friend  of  mine  ;  will  it  please  you  to  hear  these 
things  from  his  own  lips  ?' 

'  No,'  said  Julia  ;  *  I  would  hear  no  more.  I  have 
heard  more  than  enough.  How  needful,  Lucius,  if 
these  things  are  so,  that  our  Christian  zeal  abate 
not  !  I  see  that  this  stern  and  bloody  faith  requires 
that  they  who  would  deal  with  it  must  carry  their  lives 
in  their  hand,  ready  to  part  with  nothing  so  easily,  if 
by  so  doing  they  can  hew  away  one  of  the  branches,, 
or  tear  up  one  of  the  roots  of  this  ancient  and  pernicious 
error.  I  blame  not  Probus  longer  —  no,  nor  the  wild 
rage  of  Macer.' 
9  VOL.  i. 


98  ADRULIAN. 

*  Two,  lady,  of  the  captives  were    of   Palmyra  ;    the 
Queen's  name  and  yours  were  last  upon  their  lips.' 

•  Great  God  !  how  retribution   like  a   dark  pursuing 
shadow   hangs  upon  the  steps  of  guilt  !     Even    here  it 
seeks  us.     Alas,  my  mother  !     Heaven  grant  that  these 
things  fall  not  upon  your  ears  !  ' 

Julia  was  greatly  moved,  and  sat  a  long  time  si.ent, 
her  face  buried  in  her  hands,  and  weeping.  I  motioned 
to  Milo  to  withdraw  and  say  no  more.  Upon  Julia,  al 
though  so  innocent  of  all  wrong  —  guiltless  as  an  iniant 
of  the  blame,  whatever  it  may  be,  which  the  world  fixes 
upon  Zenobia  —  yet  upon  her,  as  heavily  as  upon  her 
great  mother,  fall  the  sorrows,  which,  sooner  or  later, 
overtake  those,  who,  for  any  purpose,  in  whatever  de 
gree  selfish,  have  involved  their  fellow-creatures  in 
useless  suffering.  Being  part  of  the  royal  house,  Julia 
feels  that  she  must  bear  her  portion  of  its  burdens. 
Time  alone  can  cure  this  grief. 

But  you  are  waiting,  with  a  woman's  impatient  curi- 
osity,  to  hear  of  the  dedication. 

At  the  appointed  hour,  we  were  at  the  palace  of  Au- 
relian  on  the  Palatine,  where  a  procession  pompous  as 
art,  and  rank,  and  numbers  could  make  it,  was  formed, 
to  move  thence  by  a  winding  and  distant  way  to  the 
temple  near  the  foot  of  the  Quirinal.  Julia  repaired 
with  Portia  to  a  place  of  observation  near  the  temple  — 
I  to  the  palace,  to  join  the  company  of  the  Emperor.  Of 
the  gorgeous  magnificence  of  the  procession.  I  shall  tell 
you  nothing.  It  was  in  extent,  and  variety  of  pomp 
and  costliness  of  decoration,  a  copy  of  that  of  the  late 
triumph  ;  and  went  even  beyond  the  captivating  splen 
dor  of  the  example.  Roman  music  —  which  is  not  that 


AIT  RE  LI  AN.  99 

of  Palmyra — lent  such  charms  as  it  could  to  our  pas 
sage  through  the  streets  to  the  temple,  from  a  thousand 
performers. 

As  we  drew  near  to  the  lofty  fabric,  I  thought  that 
no  scene  of  such  various  heauty  and  magnificence  had 
ever  met  my  eye.  The  temple  itself  is  a  work  of  un 
rivalled  art.  In  size  it  surpasses  any  other  building  of 
the  same  kind  in  Rome,  and  for  excellence  of  workman 
ship  and  purity  of  design,  although  it  may  fall  below 
the  standard  of  Hadrian's  age,  yet,  for  a  certain  air  of 
grandeur,  and  luxuriance  of  invention  in  its  details,  and 
lavish  profusion  of  embellishment  in  gold  and  silver,  no 
temple,  nor  other  edifice,  o^  any  preceding  age,  ever  per 
haps  resembled  it.  Its  order  is  the  Corinthian,  of  the 
Roman  form,  and  the  entire  building  is  surrounded  by 
its  graceful  columns,  each  composed  of  a  single  piece  of 
marble.  Upon  the  front,  is  wrought  Apollo  surrounded 
by  the  Hours.  The  western  extremity  is  approached 
by  a  flight  of  steps,  of  the  same  breadth  as  the  temple 
itself.  At  the  eastern,  there  extends  beyond  the  walls, 
to  a  distance  equal  to  the  length  of  the  building,  a  mar 
ble  platform,  upon  which  stands  the  altar  of  sacrifice, 
which  is  ascended  by  various  flights  of  steps,  some  lit 
tle  more  than  a  gently  rising  plain,  up  which  the  beasts 
are  led  that  are  destined  to  the  altar. 

When  this  vast  extent  of  wall  and  column,  of  the 
most  dazzling  brightness,  came  into  view,  everywhere 
covered,  together  with  the  surrounding  temples,  palaces, 
and  theatres,  with  a  dense  mass  of  human  beings,  of  all 
climes  and  regions,  dressed  out  in  their  richest  attire  — 
music  from  innumerable  instruments  filling  the  heavens 
with  harmony  —  shouts  of  the  proud  n~ad  excited  popu- 


rOO 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N. 


lace,  every  few  moments,  and  from  different  points,  as 
Aurelian  advanced,  shaking  the  air  with  their  thrilling 
din  —  added  to,  still  further,  by  the  neighing  of  horses, 
and  the  frequent  blasts  of  the  trumpet  —  the  whole  made 
more  solemnly  imposing  by  the  vast  masses  of  clouds 
which  swept  over  the  sky,  now  suddenly  unveiling,  and 
again  eclipsing,  the  sun,  the  great  god  of  this  idolatry, 
and  from  which  few  could  withdraw  their  gaze  ; — when, 
at  once,  this  all  broke  upon  my  eye  and  ear,  I  was  like 
a  child  who,  before,  had  never  seen  aught  but  his  own 
village,  and  his  own  rural  temple,  in  the  effect  wrought 
upon  me,  and  the  passiveness  with  which  I  abandoned 
myself  to  the  sway  of  the  senses.  Not  one  there,  was 
more  ravished  than  I  was,  by  the  outward  circumstance 
and  show.  I  thought  of  Rome's  thousand  years,  of  her 
power,  her  greatness,  and  universal  empire,  and,  for  a 
moment,  my  step  was  not  less  proud  than  that  of  Au 
relian. 

But,  after  that  moment,  when  the  senses  had  had 
their  fill,  when  the  eye  had  seen  the  glory,  and  the 
ear  had  fed  upon  the  harmony  and  the  praise,  then  I 
thought  and  felt  very  differently.  Sorrow  and  compas 
sion  for  these  gay  multitudes  were  at  my  heart  ;  pro 
phetic  forebodings  of  disaster,  danger,  and  ruin  to  those, 
to  whose  sacred  cause  I  had  linked  myself,  made  my 
tongue  to  falter  in  its  speech,  and  my  limbs  to  tremble. 
I  thought  that  the  superstition,  that  was  upheld  by  the 
wealth  and  the  power,  whose  manifestations  were  be 
fore  me,  had  its  roots  in  the  very  centre  of  the  earth  — 
far  too  deep  down  for  a  few  like  myself  ever  to  reach 
them.  I  was  like  one,  whose  last  hope  of  life  and  e&- 
cape  is  suddenly  struck  away. 


AUK  EL  I  AN.  101 

I  was  aroused  from  these  meditations,  by  our  arrival 
fit  the  eastern  front  of  the  temple.  Between  the  two 
central  columns,  on  a  throne  of  gold  and  ivory,  sat  the 
Emperor  of  the  world,  surrounded  by  the  senate,  the 
colleges  of  augurs  and  haruspices,  and  by  the  priests  of 
the  various  temples  of  the  capital,  all  in  their  peculiar 
costume.  Then,  Pronto,  the  priest  of  the  temple, 
standing  at  the  altar,  glittering  in  his  white  and  golden 
robes  like  a  messenger  of  light — when  the  crier  had 
proclaimed  that  the  hour  of  worship  and  sacrifice  had 
come,  and  had  commanded  silence  to  be  observed — 
bared  his  head,  and,  lifting  his  face  up  toward  the  sun, 
offered,  in  clear  and  sounding  tones,  the  prayer  of  dedi 
cation.  As  he  came  toward  the  close  of  his  prayer,  he, 
as  is  so  usual,  with  loud  and  almost  frantic  cries,  and 
importunate  repetition,  called  upon  all  the  gods  to  hear 
him,  and  then,  with  appropriate  names  and  praises,  in 
voked  the  Father  of  gods  and  men  to  be  present. 

Just  as  he  had  thus  solemnly  invoked  Jupiter  by 
name,  and  was  about  to  call  upon  the  other  gods  in  the 
same  manner,  the  clouds,  which  had  been  deepening  and 
darkening,  suddenly  obscured  the  sun  ;  a  distant  peal 
of  thunder  rolled  along  the  heavens;  and,  at  the  same 
moment,  from  out  the  dark  recesses  of  the  temple,  a 
voice  of  preternatural  power  came  forth,  proclaiming-, 
so  that  the  whole  multitude  heard  the  words, — '  God  is 
but  one  ;  the  King  eternal,  immortal,  invisible.' 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  horror  that  seized  those 
multitudes.     Many  cried  out  with  fear,  and  each  seem 
ed  to  shrink  behind  the  other.     Paleness  sat  up  jr.  every 
face.     The  priest  paused  as   if  struck  by  a  po.vei 
9*         VOL.  i. 


102  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

above.  Even  the  brazen  Pronto  was  appalled.  Aure- 
ian  leaped  from  his  seat,  and  by  his  countenance,  white 
and  awe-struck,  showed  that  to  him  it  came  as  a  voice 
from  the  gods.  He  spoke  not ;  but  stood  gazing  at  the 
dark  entrance  into  the  temple,  from  which  the  sound 
had  come.  Pronto  hastily  approached  him,  and  whis 
pering  but  one  word  as  it  were  into  his  ear,  the  Empe 
ror  started  ;  the  spell  that  bound  him  was  dissolved  ; 
and,  recovering  himself —  making  indeed  as  though  a 
very  different  feeling  had  possessed  him  —  cried  out  in. 
fierce  tones  to  his  guards, 

'  Search  the  temple  ;  some  miscreant,  hid  away  among 
the  columns,  profanes  thus  the  worship  and  the  place. 
Seize  him,  and  drag  him  forth  to  instant  death.' 

The  guards  of  the  Emperor,  and  the  servants  of  the 
temple,  rushed  in  at  that  bidding,  and  searched  in  every 
part  the  interior  of  the  building.  They  soon  emerged, 
saying  that  the  search  was  fruitless.  The  temple,  in 
all  its  aisles  and  apartments,  was  empty. 

The  ceremonies,  quiet  being  again  restored,  then  went 
on.  Twelve  bulls,  of  purest  white  and  of  perfect  forms, 
their  horns  bound  about  with  fillets,  were  now  led  by 
the  servants  of  the  temple  up  the  marble  steps  to  the 
front  of  the  altar,  where  stood  the  cultrarii  and  haruspi- 
ces,  ready  to  slay  them  and  examine  their  entrails.  The 
omens,  —  as  gathered  by  the  eyes  of  all  from  the  fierce 
strugglings  and  bellowings  of  the  animals,  as  they  were 
led  toward  the  place  of  sacrifice,  some  even  escaping 
from  the  hands  of  those  who  had  the  management  of 
them,  and  from  the  violent  and  convulsive  throes  of  others 
as  the  blow  fell  upon  their  heads,  or  the  knife  severed 
their  throats,  —  were  of  the  darkest  character,  and 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N 


103 


brought  a  deep  gloom  upon  the  brow  of  the  Emperor. 
The  report  of  the  haruspices,  upon  examination  of  the 
entrails,  was  little  calculated  to  remove  that  gloom.  It 
was  for  the  most  part  unfavorable.  Especially  appall 
ing  was  the  sight  of  a  heart,  so  lean  and  withered,  that 
it  scarce  seemed  possible  that  it  should  ever  have  form 
ed  a  part  of  a  living  animal.  But  more  harrowing  than 
all,  was  the  voice  of  Pronto,  who,  prying  with  the  ha 
ruspices  into  the  smoking  carcass  of  one  of  the  slaugh 
tered  bulls,  suddenly  cried  out  with  horror,  that  '  no 
heart  was  to  be  found.' 

The  Emperor,  hardly  to  be  restrained  by  those  near 
him  from  some  expression  of  anger,  ordered  a  more  dili 
gent  search  to  be  made. 

'  It  is  not  in  nature  that  such  a  thing  should  be,'  he 
said.  '  Men  are,  in  truth,  sometimes  without  hearts  ; 
but  brutes,  as  I  think,  never.' 

The  report  was  however  confidently  confirmed. 
Pronto  himself  approached,  and  said  that  his  eye  had 
from  the  first  been  upon  the  beast,  and  the  exact  truth 
had  been  stated. 

The  carcasses,  such  parts  as  were  for  the  flames, 
were  then  laid  upon  the  vast  altar,  and  the  flames  of 
the  sacrifice  ascended. 

The  heavens  were  again  obscured  by  thick  clouds, 
which,  accumulating  into  heavy  volumes,  began  now, 
nearer  and  nearer,  to  shoot  forth  lightning,  and  roll  their 
thunders.  The  priest  commenced  the  last  office,  prayer 
to  the  god  to  whom  the  new  temple  had  been  thus  sol 
emnly  consecrated.  He  again  bowed  his  head,  and 
again  lifted  up  his  voice.  But  no  sooner  had  he  in 
voked  the  god  of  the  temple  and  besought  his  ear,  than 


304  AUK  ELI  AN. 

again,  from  its  dark  interior,  the  same  awful  sounds 
issued  forth,  this  time  saying,  «  Thy  gods,  O  Rome, 
are  false  and  lying  gods.  God  is  but  one.' 

Aurelian,  pale,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  with  superstitious 
fear,  again  strove  to  shake  it  off,  giving  it  artfully  and 
with  violence  the  appearance  of  offended  dignity.  His 
voice  was  a  shriek  rather  than  a  human  utterance,  as  he 
cried  out, 

*  This  is  but  a  Christian  device  ;  search  the  temple 
till  the  accursed  Nazarene  be  found,  and  hew  him  piece 
meal  —  '  More  he  would  have  said,  but,  at  the  instant, 
a  bolt  of  lightning  shot  from  the  heavens,  and,  lighting 
upon  a  large  sycamore  which  shaded  a  part  of  the  tem 
ple  court,  clove  it  in  twain.  The  swollen  cloud,  at  the 
same  moment,  burst,  and  a  deluge  of  rain  poured  upon 
the  city,  the  temple,  the  gazing  multitude,  and  the  just 
kindled  altars.  The  sacred  fires  went  out  in  hissing  arid 
darkness  ;  a  tempest  of  wind  whirled  the  limbs  of  the 
slaughtered  victims  into  the  air,  and  abroad  over  the 
neighboring  streets.  All  was  confusion,  uproar,  terror, 
and  dismay.  The  crowds  sought  safety  in  the  houses 
of  the  nearest  inhabitants,  in  the  porches,  and  in  the 
palaces.  Aurelian  and  the  senators  and  those  nearest 
him,  fled  to  the  interior  of  the  temple.  The  heavens 
blazed  with  the  quick  flashing  of  the  lightning,  and  the 
temple  itself  seemed  to  rock  beneath  the  voice  of  the 
thunder.  I  never  knew  in  Rome  so  terrific  a  tempest. 
The  stoutest  trembled,  for  life  hung  by  a  thread.  Grea» 
numbers,  it  has  now  been  found,  in  every  part  of  the 
capital,  fell  a  prey  to  the  fiery  bolts.  The  capjtol  itself 
was  struck,  and  the  brass  statue  of  Vespasian  in  the  fo 
rum  thrown  down  and  partly  melted.  The  Tiber  in  a 


AURE  LI  A  N.  105 

few  hours  overran  its  banks,  and  laid  much  of  the  city 
on  its  borders  under  water. 

But,  ere  long,  the  storm  was  over.  The  retreating 
clouds,  but  still  sullenly  muttering  in  the  distance  as 
they  rolled  away,  were  again  lighted  up  by  the  sun,  who 
again  shone  forth  in  his  splendor.  The  scattered  limbs 
of  the  victims  were  collected  and  again  laid  upon  the 
altar.  Dry  wood  being  brought,  the  flames  quickly 
shot  upward  and  consumed  to  the  last  joint  and  bone 
the  sacred  offerings.  Fronto  once  more  stood  before  the 
altar,  and  now  uninterrupted  performed  the  last  office  of 
the  ceremony.  Then,  around  the  tables  spread  within 
the  temple  to  the  honor  of  the  gods,  feasting  upon  the 
luxuries  contributed  by  every  quarter  of  the  earth,  and 
filling  high  with  wine,  the  adverse  omens  of  the  day 
were  by  most  forgotten.  But  not  by  Aurelian.  No 
smile  was  seen  to  light  up  his  dark  countenance.  The 
jests  of  Varus  and  the  wisdom  of  Porphyrius  alike  failed 
to  reach  him.  Wrapped  in  his  own  thoughts,  he  brooded 
gloomily  over  what  had  happened,  and  strove  to  read 
the  interpretation  of  portents  so  unusual  and  alarming. 

I  went  not  in  to  the  feast,  but  returned  home  reflect 
ing  as  I  went  upon  the  events  I  had  witnessed.  I  knew 
not  what  to  think.  That  in  times  past,  long  after  the 
departure  from  the  earth  of  Jesus  and  his  immediate  fol 
lowers,  the  Deity  had  interposed  in  seasons  of  peculiar 
perplexity  to  the  church,  and,  in  a  way  to  be  observed, 
had  manifested  his  power,  I  did  not  doubt.  But  for  a 
long  time  such  revelations  had  wholly  ceased.  And  I 
could  not  see  any  such  features  in  the  present  juncture, 
as  would,  to  speak  as  a  man,  justify  and  vindicate  a  de 
parture  from  the  ordinary  methods  of  the  Divine  Provi- 


106  AURELIAN. 

dence.  But  tnen,  on  the  other  hand,  I  coulu  not  other 
wise  account  for  the  voice,  nor  discover  any  way  in 
which,  had  one  been  so  disposed,  he  coul  1  so  successfully 
and  securely  have  accomplished  his  work.  Revolving 
these  things,  and  perplexed  by  doubts,  I  reached  the 
Ccelian  —  when,  as  I  entered  my  dwelling,  I  found,  to 
my  great  satisfaction,  Probus  seated  with  Julia,  who  at 
an  early  period,  foreseeing  the  tempest,  had  with  Portia 
withdrawn  to  the  security  of  her  own  roof. 

1 1  am  glad  you  are  come  at  length,'  said  Julia  as  I 
entered  ;  '  our  friend  has  scarce  spoken.  I  should  think, 
did  I  not  know  the  contrary,  that  he  had  suddenly  aban 
doned  the  service  of  truth  and  become  a  disciple  of 
Novatus.  He  hath  done  little  but  groan  and  sigh.' 

1  Surely, '  I  replied,  '  the  occasion  warrants  both  sighs 
and  groans.  But  when  came  you  from  the  temple  ?  ' 

'  On  the  appearance  of  the  storm,  just  as  Pronto  ap 
proached  the  altar  the  first  time.  The  signs  were  not 
to  be  mistaken,  by  any  who  were  not  so  much  engrossed 
by  the  scene  as  to  be  insensible  to  all  else,  that  a  tempest 
was  in  the  sky,  and  would  soon  break  upon  the  crowds 
in  a  deluge  of  rain  and  hail  —  as  has  happened.  So 
that  warning  Portia  of  the  danger,  we  early  retreated  — 
she  with  reluctance ;  but  for  myself,  I  was  glad  to  be 
driven  away  from  a  scene  that  brought  so  vividly  before 
me  the  events  of  the  early  morning.' 

*  I  am  glad  it  was  so,'  I  replied ;  '  you  would  have  been 
more  severely  tried,  had  you  remained.'  And  I  then 
gave  an  account  of  the  occurrences  of  the  day. 

'  I  know  not  what" to  make  of  it,'  she  said  as  I  ended 
*  Probus,  teach  us  what  to  think.  I  am  bewildered  and 
amazed.' 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  107 

*  Lady,'  said  Probus, '  the  Christian  service  is  a  hard  one.* 

*  I  have  not  found  it  so,  thus  far ;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
a  light  and  easy  one.' 

'  But  the  way  is  not  ever  so  smooth,  and  the  path, 
once  entered  upon,  there  is  no  retreat.' 

'  No  roughness  nor  peril,  Probus,  be  they  what  they 
may,  can  ever  shake  me.  It  is  for  eternity  I  have  em 
braced  this  faith,  not  for  time  —  for  my  soul,  not  for  my 
body.' 

*  God  be  thanked  that  it  is  so.     But  the  evils  and  sor 
rows  that  time  has  in  store,  and  which  afflict  the  body, 
are  not  slight.     And  sometimes  they  burst  forth  from 
the  overburdened  clouds  in  terrific  violence,  and  poor 
human  strength  sinks  and  trembles,  as  to-day  before  the 
conflict  of  the  elements.' 

*  They  would  find  me  strong  in  spirit  and  purpose,  I 
am  sure,  Probus,  however  my  woman's  frame  of  flesh 
might  yield.     No  fear  can  change  my  mind,  nor  tear  me 
from  the  hopes  which  through  Christ  I  cherish  more,  a 
thousand  fold,  than  this  life  of  an  hour.' 

'  Why,  why  is  it  so  ordained  in  the  Providence  of 
God,'  said  Probus, '  that  truth  must  needs  be  watered 
with  tears  and  blood,  ere  it  will  grow  and  bear  fruit  ? 
When,  as  now,  the  sky  is  dark  and  threatening,  and  the 
mind  is  thronged  with  fearful  anticipations  of  the  sorrows 
that  await  those  who  hold  this  faith,  how  can  I,  with  a 
human  heart  within  me,  labor  to  convert  the  unbeliev 
ing  ?  The  words  falter  upon  my  tongue.  I  turn  from 
the  young  inquirer,  and  with  some  poor  reason  put  him 
off  to  another  season.  When  I  preach,  it  is  with  a  cold 
ness  that  must  repel,  and  it  is  that  which  I  almost  desire 
to  be  the  effect.  My  prayers  never  reach  heaven,  nor 


103  AUREL1AN. 

the  consciences  of  those  who  hear.  Probus,  they  say,  is 
growing  worldly.  His  heart  burns  no  longer  within 
him.  His  zeal  is  cold.  We  must  look  to  Macer.  I 
fear,  lady,  that  the  reproaches  are  well  deserved.  Not 
that  I  am  growing  worldly  or  cold,  but  that  my  human 
affections  lead  me  away  from  duty,  and  make  me  a  trai 
tor  to  truth,  and  my  master.' 

4  0  no,  Probus,'  said  Julia  ;  *  these  are  charges  fool 
ish  and  false.  There  is  not  a  Christian  in  Rome  but 
would  say  so.  We  all  rest  upon  you.' 

'  Then  upon  what  a  broken  reed  !  I  am  glad  it  was 
not  I  who  made  you  a  Christian.' 

*  Do  you  grieve  to  have  been  a  benefactor  ?' 

*  Almost,  when  I  see  the  evils  which  are  to  overwhelm 
the  believer.     I  look  round  upon  my  little  fiock  of  hear 
ers,  and  I  seem  to  see  them  led  as  lambs  to  the  slaugh 
ter  —  poor,  defenceless  creatures,  set  upon  by  worse  than 
lions  and  wolves.     And  you,  lady  of  Piso,   how  can  1 
sincerely  rejoice  that  you  have  added  your  great  name 
to  our  humble  roll,  when  I  think  of  what  may  await 
you.      Is  that  form  to  be  dragged  with  violence  amid 
the  hootings  of  the  populace  to  the  tribunal  of  the  beast 
Varus  ?     Are  those  limbs  for  the  rack  or  the  fire  ? ' 

*  I  trust  in  God  they  are  not,  Probus.      But  if  they 
are  needed,  they  are  little  to  give  for  that  which   has 
made  me  so  rich,  and  given  wings  to  the  soul.     I  can 
spare  the  body,  now  that  the  soul  can  live  without  it.' 

'  There  spoke  the  universal  Christian  !  What  hut 
truth  could  so  change  our  poor  human  nature  into  some 
what  quite  divine  and  godlike  !  Think  not  I  shrink  my 
self  at  the  prospect  of  obstruction  and  assault.  I  arn  a 
man  loose  upon  the  world,  weaned  by  suffering  and 


AURELIAN.  b 

misfortune  from  earth,  and  ready  at  any  hour  to  depar< 
from  it.  You  know  my  early  story  But  I  in  vair 
seek  to  steel  myself  to  the  pains  of  others.  From  wha,' 
I  have  said,  I  fear  lest  you  should  think  me  over-appre 
hensive.  I  wish  it  were  so.  But  all  seems  at  this  mo 
ment  to  be  against  us.' 

*  More  then,'  said  Julia,  '  must  have   come   to  your 
ears  than  to  ours.     When  last  we  sat  with  the  Emperor 
at  his  table,  he  seemed  well  inclined.     And  when  urged 
by  Fronto,  rebuked  him  even  with  violence.' 

*  Yes,  it  was  so.' 

*  Is  it  then  from  the  scenes  of  to-day  at  the  temple 
that   you    draw   fresh    omens    of  misfortune  ?     I  have 
asked  you  what  we  should  think  of  them.' 

*  I  almost  tremble  to  say.     I  ^stood,  Piso,  not  far  from 
you,  upon  the  lower  flight  of  steps,  where  I  think  you 
observed  me.' 

*  I  did.     And  at  the  sound  of  that  voice  from  the  tem 
ple,  methought  your  face   was   paler   than  Aureliaxi's, 
Why  was  that  ?  ' 

*  Because,  Piso,  I  knew  the  voice.' 

*  Knew  it !      What  mean  you  ?' 

'  Repeat  it  not  —  let  it  sink  into  vour  ear,  and  there 
abide.     It  was  Macer's.' 

1  Macer's  ?     Surely  you  jest.' 

'  Alas  !  I  wish  it  were  a  jest.     But  his  tones  were  no 
more  to  be  mistaken  than  were  the  thunder's.' 

'  This,  should  it  be  known,  would,  it  is  plain  to  see, 
greatly  exasperate  Aurelian.     It  would  be  more  than 
enough  for  Fronto  to  work  his  worst  ends  with.     His 
suspicions  at  once  fell  upon  the  Christians.' 
10         VOL.  i. 


110  AURELIAN. 

'  That,'  said  Probus,  «  was,  I  ana  confident,  an  artifice. 
The  countenance,  struck  with  superstitious  horror,  is 
not  to  be  read  amiss.  Seen,  though  but  for  a  moment, 
and  the  signature  is  upon  it,  one  and  unequivocal.  But 
with  quick  instinct  the  wily  priest  saw  his  advantage, 
seized  it.  and,  whether  believing  or  not  himself,  succeeded 
in  poisoning  the  mind  of  Aurelian  and  that  of  the  mul 
titude.  So  great  was  the  commotion  among  the  popu 
lace,  that,  but  for  the  tempest,  I  believe  scarce  would 
the  legions  of  the  Emperor  have  saved  us  from  slaughter 
upon  the  spot.  Honest,  misguided  Macer  —  little  dost 
thou  know  how  deep  a  wound  thou  hast  struck  into  the 
very  dearest  life  of  the  truth,  for  which  thou  wouldst  yet 
at  any  moment  thyself  freely  suffer  and  die  ! ' 

*  What,'  said  Julia,  '  could  have  moved  him  to  such 
madness  ? ' 

*  With  him,'  replied  Probus,  '  it  was  a  deed  of  piety 
and  genuine  zeal  for  God  ;  he  saw  it  in  the  light  of  an 
act  god-like,  and  god-directed.      Could    you   read  his 
heart,  you  would  find  it  calm  and  serene,  in  the  con 
sciousness  of  a  great   duty  greatly  performed.      It  is 
very  possible  he  may  have  felt  himself  to  be  but  an  in 
strument  in  the  hand  of  a  higher  power,  to  whom  he 
gives   all  the  glory  and  the  praise.     There  are  many 
like  him,    lady,   both    among   Christians   and  Pagans. 
The  sybils  impose  not  so  much   upon   others   as  upon 
themselves.     They  who  give  forth  the  responses  of  the 
oracle,  oft-times  believe  that  they  are  in  very  truth  full 
of  the  god,  and  speak  not  their  own  thoughts,  but  the  in 
spirations  of  him  whose  priests  they  are.     To  them 
selves  more  than  to  others  are  they  impostors.     The  con 
ceit  of  the  peculiar  favor  of  God,  or  of  the  gods   in  re- 


AURE  LIA  N  .  Ill 

turn  for  extraordinary  devotion,  is  a  weakness  that  besets 
our  nature  wherever  it  is  found.  An  apostle  perhaps 
never  believed  in  his  inspiration  more  firmly  than  at 
times  does  Macer,  and  others  among  us  like  him.  But 
this  inward  solitary  persuasion  we  know  is  nothing, 
however  it  may  carry  away  captive  the  undiscrimina- 
ting  multitude.' 

'  Hence,  Probus,  then,  I  suppose,  the  need  of  some 
outward  act  of  an  extraordinary  nature  to  show  the  in 
spiration  real.' 

'  Yes,'  he  replied.  '  No  assertion  of  divine  impulses 
or  revelations  can  avail  to  persuade  us  of  their  reality, 
except  supported  and  confirmed  by  miracle.  That,  and 
that  only,  proves  the  present  God.  Christ  would  have 
died  without  followers  had  he  exhibited  to  the  world 
only  his  character  and  his  truth,  even  though  he  had 
claimed,  and  claimed  truly,  a  descent  from  and  commu 
nion  with  the  Deity.  Men  would  have  said,  *  This  is 
an  old  and  common  story.  We  see  every  day  and  every 
where  those  who  affect  divine  aid.  No  act  is  so  easy 
as  to  deceive  one's  self.  If  you  propose  a  spiritual  moral 
system  and  claim  for  it  a  divine  authority,  show  your 
authority  by  a  divine  work,  a  work  impossible  to  man, 
and  we  will  then  admit  your  claims.  But  your  own  in 
ward  convictions  alone,  sincere  as  they  may  be,  and  pos 
sibly  founded  in  truth,  pass  with  us  for  nothing.  Raise 
one  that  was  dead  to  life,  and  we  will  believe  you  when 
you  reveal  to  us  the  spiritual  world  and  the  life  to  come.' 

*  I  think,'  said  Julia,  '  such  would  be  the  process  in 
my  own  mind.  There  seems  the  same  natural  and 
necessary  connection  here  between  spiritual  truths  and 
outward  acts,  as  between  the  forms  of  letters  or  the  sound 


112  AURELIAN. 

of  words,  and  ideas.  We  receive  the  most  subtle  of  Pla 
to's  reasonings  through  words  —  those  miracles  of  rna 
terial  help  —  which  address  themselves  to  the  eye  or  ear. 
So  we  receive  the  truths  of  Jesus  through  the  eye  wit 
nessing  his  works,  or  the  ear  hearing  the  voice  from 
Heaven.  —  But  we  wander  from  Macer,  in  whom,  from 
what  you  have  told  us,  and  Piso  has  known,  we  both  feel 
deeply  interested.  Can  he  not  be  drawn  away  from  those 
fancies  which  possess  him  ?  'Tis  a  pity  we  should  lose 
so  strong  an  advocate,  to  some  minds  so  resistless,  nor 
only  that,  but  suffer  injury  from  his  extravagance.' 

4  It  is  our  purpose,'  I  replied, '  to  visit  him  to  try  what 
effect  earnest  remonstrance  and  appeal  may  have.  Soon 
as  I  shall  return  from  my  promised  and  now  necessary 
visit  to  Marcus  and  Lucilia,  I  shall  not  fail,  Probus,  to 
request  you  to  accompany  me  to  his  dwelling.' 

'  Does  he  dwell  far  from  us  ?  '  asked  Julia. 

*  His  house,  if  house  it  may  be  called,'  replied  Probus, 
*  is  in  a  narrow  street,  which  runs  just  behind  the  shop 
of  Demetrius,  midway  between  the  Capitol  and  the 
Quirinal.  It  is  easily  found  by  first  passing  the  shop 
and  then  descending  quick  to  the  left  —  the  street  Ja 
nus,  our  friend  Isaac's  street,  turning  off  at  the  same 
point  to  the  right.  At  Macer's,  should  your  feet  ever 
be  drawn  that  way,  you  would  see  how  and  in  what 
crowded  space  the  poor  live  in  Rome.' 

'  Has  he  then  a  family,  as  your  words  seem  to  imply  ?' 

'  He  has ;  and  one  more  lovely  dwells  not  within  the 
walls  of  Rome.  In  his  wife  and  elder  children,  as  I 
have  informed  Piso,  we  shall  find  warm  and  eloquent 
advocates  on  our  side.  They  tremble  for  their  husband 
and  father,  whom  they  reverence  and  love,  knowing  his 


AURELIAN.  113 

impetuosity,  his  fearlessness  and  his  zeal.  Many  an  as 
sault  has  he  already  brought  upon  himself,  and  is  des 
tined,  I  fear,  to  draw  down  many  more  and  heavier.' 

*  Heaven  shield  them  all  from  harm,'  said  Julia.  '  Are 
they  known  to  Demetrius  ?     His  is  a  benevolent  heart, 
and  he  would  rejoice  to  do  them  a  service.     No  one  is 
better  known  too  or  respected  than  the  Roman  Deme 
trius  :  his  name  merely  would  be  a  protection.' 

'  It  was  from  Macer,'  replied  Probus,  *  that  Demetrius 
first  heard  the  truth  which  now  holds  him  captive. 
Their  near  neighborhood  brought  them  often  together. 
Demetrius  was  impressed  by  the  ardor  and  evident  sin 
cerity  so  visible  in  the  conversation  and  manners  of 
Macer ;  and  Macer  was  drawn  toward  Demetrius  by 
the  cast  of  melancholy  —  that  sober,  thoughtful  air  — 
that  separates  him  so  from  his  mercurial  brother,  and 
indeed  from  all.  He  wished  he  were  a  Christian.  And 
by  happy  accidents  being  thrown  together — or  rather 
drawn  by  some  secret  bond  of  attraction — he  in  no  long 
time  had  the  happiness  to  see  him  one.  From  the  hand 
of  Felix  he  received  the  waters  of  baptism.' 

*  What  you  have  said,  Probus,  gives  me  great  pleas 
ure.     I  am  not  only  now  sure  that  Macer  and  his  little 
tribe  have  a  friend  at  hand,  but  the  knowledge  that  such 
a  mind  as  that  of  Demetrius  has  been  wrought  upon 
by  Macer,  has  served  to  raise  him  in   my   esteem  and 
respect.     He  can  be  no  common  man,  and   surely  no 
madman.' 

'  The  world  ever  loves  to  charge  those  as   mad,'   said 
Probus,  *  who,  in  devotion  to  a   great  cause,  exceed  its 
cold  standard    of  moderation.     Singular,  that  excess 
VOL.  i. 


114  ATT  RE  LI  AN. 

virtue  should  incur  this  reproach,  while  excess  in  vice 
is  held  but  as  a  weakness  of  our  nature  ! ' 

We  were  here  interrupted  by  Milo,  who  came  to 
conduct  us  to  the  supper  room  ;  and  there  our  friendly 
talk  was  prolonged  far  into  the  night. 

When  I  next  write,  I  shall  have  somewhat  to  say  of 
Marcus,  Lucilia,  and  the  little  Gallus.  How  noble  and 
generous  in  the  Queen,  her  magnificent  gift  !  When 
summer  comes  round  again,  I  shall  not  fail,  together  with 
Julia,  to  see  you  there.  How  many  recollections  will 
come  thronging  upon  me  when  I  shall  again  find  myself 
in  the  court  of  the  Elephant,  sitting  where  I  once  sat  so 
often  and  listened  to  the  voice  of  Longinus.  May  you 
see  there  many  happy  years.  Farewell. 


Nothing  could  exceed  the  sensation  caused  in  Rome 
by  the  voice  heard  at  the  dedication,  and  among  the  ad 
herents  of  the  popular  faith,  by  the  unlucky  omens  of 
the  day  and  of  the  sacrifice.  My  office  at  that  time 
called  me  often  to  the  capital,  and  to  the  palace  of  Aure- 
lian,  and  threw  me  frequently  into  his  company  and 
that  of  Livia.  My  presence  was  little  heeded  by  the 
Emperor,  who,  of  a  bold  and  manly  temper,  spoke  out 
with  little  reserve,  and  with  no  disguise  or  fear,  whatever 
sentiments  possessed  him.  From  such  opportunities,  and 
from  communications  of  Menestheus,  the  secretary  of 
Aurelian,  little  took  place  at  the  palace  which  came  not 
to  my  knowledge.  The  morning  succeeding  the  dedi 
cation  I  had  come  to  the  city  bringing  a  packet  from  the 
Queen  to  the  Empress  Livia.  While  I  waited  in  the 
common  reception  room  of  the  palace,  I  took  from  a 


AURE  LI AN  .  115 

case  standing  there,  a  volume  and  read.  As  i  read,  I 
presently  was  aroused  by  the  sound  of  Aurelian's  voice. 
It  was  as  if  engaged  in  earnest  conversation.  He  soon 
entered  the  apartment  accompanied  by  the  priest  of  the 
new  temple. 

*  There  is  something,'  he  said  as  he  drew   near,  *  in 
this  combination  of  unlucky  signs  that   might  appal  a 
stouter  spirit  than  mine.     This  too,  after  a  munificence 
toward  not  one  only  but  all  the  temples,  never  I  am  sure 
surpassed.     Every  god  has  been  propitiated  by  gifts  and 
appropriate  rites.     How  can  all  this  be  interpreted  other 
than  most  darkly  —  other  than  as  a  general  hostility  — 
and  a  discouragement  from  an  enterprise  upon  which  I 
would  found  my  glory.     This  has  come  most  unlocked 
for.     I  confess  myself  perplexed.     I  have  openly  pro 
claimed  my  purpose— the  word  has  gone  abroad   and 
travelled  by  this  to  the  court  of  Persia  itself,  that  with 
all  Rome  at  my  back   I   am   once   more    to   tempt   the 
deserts  of  the  East.' 

He  here  suddenly  paused,  being  reminded  by  Pronto 
of  my  presence. 

'  Ah,  it  matters  not ;'  he  said  ;  '  this  is  but  Nicho- 
machus,  the  good  servant  of  the  Queen  of  Palmyra.  I 
hope,'  he  said,  turning  to  me,  *  that  the  Queen  is  well, 
and  the  young  Faustula  ?  ' 

'  They  are  well,'  I  replied. 

« How  agree  with  her  these  cooler  airs  of  the  west  ? 
These  are  not  the  breezes  of  Arabia,  that  come  to-day 
from  the  mountains.' 

1  She  heeds  them  little,'  I  replied,  *  her  thoughts  are 
engrossed  by  heavier  cares.' 

*  They  must  be  fewer  now  than  ever.' 


116  AUR  ELIAN. 

*  They  are  fewer,  but  they  are  heavier  and  weigh  upon 
her  life  more  than  the  whole  East  once    did.     The   re 
membrance  of  a  single  great  disaster  weighs  as  a  heavier 
burden  than  the  successful  management  of  an  empire.' 

'  True,  Nichomachus,  that  is  over  true.'  Then,  with 
out  further  regarding  me,  he  went  on  with  his  conver 
sation  with  Pronto. 

'  I  cannot,'  he  said,  {  now  go  back  ;  and  to  go  forward 
may  be  persumptuous.' 

'  I  cannot  but  believe,  great  Emperor,'  said  Pronto 
*  that  I  have  it  in  my  power  to  resolve  your  doubts,  and 
set  your  mind  at  ease.' 

'  Rest  not  then,'  said  Aurelian  with  impatience  —  'but 
say  on.' 

*  You  sought  the  gods  and  read  the  omens  with  but 
one  prayer  and  thought.     And  you  have  construed  them 
as  all  bearing  upon  one  point  and  having  one  significan- 
cy  —  because  you  have  looked  in  no  other  direction.     I 
believe  they  bear  upon  a  different  point,  and  that  when 
you  look  behind  and  before,  you  will  be  of  the  same 
judgment.' 

«  Whither  tends  all  this  ? ' 

1  To  this  —  that  the  omens  of  the  day  hear  not  upon 
your  eastern  expedition,  but  upon  the  new  religion  ! 
You  are  warned  as  the  great  high  priest,  by  these  signs 
in  heaven  and  on  earth — not  against  this  projected  ex 
pedition,  which  is  an  act  of  piety,  —  but  against  this  ac 
cursed  superstition,  which  is  working  its  way  into  the 
empire,  and  threatening  the  extermination  and  overthrow 
of  the  very  altars  on  which  you  laid  your  costly  offer 
ings.  What  concern  can  the  divinities  feel  in  the  array 
ol  an  army,  destined  to  whatever  service,  compared  with 


A  U  RELI  AN.  117 

that  which  must  agitate  their  sacred  breasts  as  they  be 
hold  their  altars  cast  down  or  forsaken,  their  names  pro 
faned,  their  very  being  denied,  their  worshippers  drawn 
from  them  to  the  secret  midnight  orgies  of  a  tribe  of 
Atheists,  whose  aim  is  anarchy  in  the  state  and  in  relig 
ion  ;  owning  neither  king  on  earth  nor  king  in  heaven 
—  every  man  to  be  his  own  priest  —  every  man  his  own 
master  !  Is  not  this  the  likeliest  reading  of  the  omens  ?' 

*  I  confess,   Pronto,'  the   Emperor  replied,  the  cloud 
upon  his  brow  clearing  away  as  he  spoke,  '  that  what 
you   say  possesses  likelihood.      I  believe  I  have   inter 
preted  according  to  my  fears.     It  is  as  you  say  —  the 
East  only  has  been  in  my  thoughts.     It  cannot  in  reason 
be  thought  to  be  this  enterprize,  which,  as  you  have  said, 
is  an  act  of  piety  —  all  Rome  would  judge  it  so  —  against 
which   the    heavens    have    thus    arrayed    themselves, 
Pronto  !  Pronto  !  I  am  another  man  !     Slave,'  cried  he 
aloud  to  one  of  the  menials  as  he  passed,  *  let  Mucapor 
be  instantly  summoned.     Let  there  be  no  delay.     Now 
can  my  affairs  be  set  on  with  something  more  of  speed. 
When  the  gods  smile,  mountains  sink  to  mole-hills.     A 
divine  energy  runs  in  the  current  of  the  blood  and  lends 
more  than  mortal  force  tc  the  arm  and  the  will.' 

As  he  spoke,  never  did  so  malignant  a  joy  light  up 
the  human  countenance  as  was  to  be  seen  in  the  face  of. 
Pronto. 

*  And  what  then,'  he  hastily  put  in  as  the   Emper 
or   paused,  '  what   shall   be    done   with   these   profan* 
wretches  ? ' 

'  The  Christians  !  They  must  be  seen  to.  I  will  con 
sider.  Now,  Pronto,  shall  I  fill  to  the  brim  the  cup  of 
human  glory.  Now  shall  Rome  by  me  vindicate  her 


118  AURELIAN. 

lost  honor  and  wipe  off  the  foulest  stain  that  since  the 
time  of  Romulus  has  darkened  her  annals.' 

4  You  will  do  yourself  and  the  empire,'  rejoined  the 
priest,  *  immortal  honor.  If  danger  ever  threatened  the 
very  existence  of  the  state  it  is  now  from  the  secret 
machinations  of  this  god-denying  tribe.' 

'  I  spake  of  the  East  and  of  Valerian,  Fronto.  Syria 
is  now  Rome's.  Palmyra,  that  mushroom  of  a  day,  is 
level  with  the  ground.  Her  life  is  out.  She  will  be 
hereafter  known  but  by  the  fame  of  her  past  greatness, 
of  her  matchless  Queen,  and  the  glory  of  the  victories 
that  crowned  the  arms  of  Aurelian.  What  now  remains 
but  Persia?1 

'  The  Christians,'  said  the  priest,  shortly  and  bitterly. 

*  You  are  right,  Fronto  ;  the  omens  are  not  to  be  read 
otherwise.     It  is  against  them  they  point.     It  shall  be 
maturely  weighed  what   shall  be  done.     When   Persia 
is  swept  from  the  field,  and  Ctesiphon  lies  as  low  as 
Palmyra,  then  will  I  restore  the  honor  of  the  gods,  and 
let  who  will  dare  to  worship  other  than  as  I  shall  or 
dain !     Whoever  worships  them  not,  or  other  than  them, 
shall  die.' 

*  In  that  spoke  the  chief  minister  of  religion  —  the  re 
presentative  of  the  gods.     The  piety  of  Aurelian  is  in 
the  mouths  of  men  not  less  than  his  glory.     The  city 
resounds   with   the  praise   of  him    who   has   enriched 
the  temples,  erected  new  ones,  made  ample  provision  for 
the  priesthood,  and  fed  the  poor.     This  is  the  best  great 
ness.     Posterity  will  rather  honor  and  remember  him 
who  saved  them  their  faith,  than  him  who  gained  a  Per 
sian  victory.     The  victory  for  Religion  too  is  to  be  had 
idthout  cost,  without  a  step  taken  from  the  palace  gate 


AURELIAN.  119 

or  from  the  side  of  her  who  is  alike  Aurelian's  and  the 
empire's  boast.' 

1  Nay,  nay,  Pronto,  you  are  over-zealous.  This  east 
ern  purpose  admits  not  of  delay.  Hormisdas  is  new  in 
his  power.  The  people  are  restless  and  divided.  The 
present  is  the  moment  of  success.  It  cannot  bear  delay. 
To-morrow,  could  it  be  so,  would  I  start  for  Thrace. 
The  heavens  are  propitious.  They  frown  no  longer.' 

'  The  likeliest  way.  methinks,'  replied  the  priest, '  to  in 
sure  success  and  the  continued  favor  of  the  gods  in  that 
which  they  do  not  forbid,  were  first  to  fulfil  their  com 
mands  in  what  they  have  enjoined.' 

1  That,  Pronto,  cannot  be  denied.  It  is  of  weight. 
But  where,  of  two  commands,  both  seem  alike  urgent, 
and  both  cannot  be  done  at  once,  whether  we  will  or 
not,  we  must  choose,  and  in  choosing  we  may  err.' 

'  To  an  impartial,  pious  mind,  0  Emperor,  the  god  of 
thy  worship  never  shone  more  clear  in  the  heavens 
than  shines  his  will  in  the  terrific  signs  of  yesterday. 
Forgive  thy  servant,  but  drawn  as  thou  art  by  the  im 
age  of  fresh  laurels  of  victory  to  be  bound  about  thy 
brow,  of  the  rich  spoils  of  Persia,  of  its  mighty  mon 
arch  at  thy  chariot  wheels,  and  the  long  line  of  a  new 
triumph  sweeping  through  the  gates  and  the  great 
heart  of  the  capital,  —  and  thou  art  blind  to  the  will  of 
the  gods,  though  writ  in  the  dread  convulsions  of  the 
elements  and  the  unerring  language  of  the  slaughtered 
victims.' 

'Both  may  be  done  —  both,  Pronto.  I  blame  not 
your  zeal.  Your  freedom  pleases  me.  Religion  is  thus, 
I  know,  in  good  hands.  But  both  1  say  may  be  done. 
The  care  of  the  empire  in  this  its  other  part  may  be 


120  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

/eft  to  tnee  and  Varus,  with  full  powers  to  see  that  the 
state,  in  the  matter  of  its  faith,  receives  no  harm.  Your 
knowledge  in  this,  if  not  your  zeal,  is  more  than  mine. 
While  I  meet  the  enemies  of  Rome  abroad,  you  shall 
be  my  other  self,  and  gain  other  victories  at  home.' 

'  Little,  I  fear,  Aurelian,  could  be  done  even  by  me 
and  Varus  leagued,  with  full  delegated  powers,  opposed 
as  we  should  be  by  Tacitus  and  the  senate  and  the  best 
half  of  Rome.  None,  but  an  arm  omnipotent  as  thine, 
can  crush  this  mischief.  I  see  thou  knowest  not  how 
deep  it  has  struck,  nor  how  wide  it  has  spread.  The 
very  foundations  of  the  throne  and  the  empire  are  un 
dermined.  The  poison  of  Christian  atheism  has  in 
fected  the  whole  mind  of  the  people,  not  only  through 
out  Rome,  but  Italy,  Gaul,  Africa,  and  Asia.  And  for 
this  we  have  to  thank  whom  ?  Whom  but  ourselves  ? 
Ever  since  Hadrian  —  otherwise  a  patriot  king  —  built 
his  imageless  temples,  in  imitation  of  this  barren  and 
lifeless  worship  ;  ever  since  the  weak  Alexander  and 
his  superstitious  mother  filled  the  imperial  palace  with 
their  statues  of  Christ,  with  preachers  and  teachers  of 
his  religion  ;  ever  since  the  Philips  openly  and  without 
shame  professed  his  faith ;  ever,  I  say,  since  these 
great  examples  have  been  before  the  world,  has  the  an 
cient  religion  declined  its  head,  and  the  new  stalked 
proudly  by.  Let  not  Aurelian's  name  be  added  to  this 
fatal  list.  Let  him  first  secure  the  honor  of  the  gods  — 
then,  and  not  till  then,  seek  his  own.*  . 

*  You  urge  with  warmth,  Pronto,  and  with  reason  too. 
Your  words  are  not  wasted ;  they  have  fallen  where 
they  shall  be  deeply  pondered.  In  the  meantime  I  will 
wait  for  the  judgment  of  the  augurs  and  haruspices; 


A  V  R  E  L  1  A  N  .  121 

ana  as  the  colleges  report,  will  hold  myself  bound  s<j 
to  act.' 

So  they  conversed,  and  then  passed  on.  I  was  at 
that  time  but  little  conversant  with  the  religious  condi 
tion  of  the  empire.  I  knew  but  little  of  the  character  of 
the  prevailing  faith  and  the  Pagan  priesthood ;  and  I 
knew  less  of  the  new  religion  as  it  was  termed.  But 
the  instincts  of  my  heart  were  from  the  gods,  and  they 
were  all  for  humanity.  I  loved  man,  whoever  Re  was, 
and  of  whatever  name  or  faith  ;  and  I  sickened  at  cru 
elties  perpetrated  against  him,  both  in  war,  and  by  the 
bloody  spirit  of  superstition.  I  burned  with  indigna 
tion  therefore  as  I  listened  to  the  cold-blooded  arguings 
of  the  bigoted  priest,  and  wept  to  see  how  artfully  he 
could  warp  aside  the  better  nature  of  Aurelian,  and 
pour  his  own  venom  into  veins,  that  had  else  run  with 
human  blood,  at  least  not  with  the  poisoned  current  of 
tigers,  wolves,  and  serpents,  of  every  name  and  nature 
most  vile.  My  hope  was  that,  away  from  his  prompte^ 
the  first  purpose  of  Aurelian  would  return  and  have  its 
way. 


122  AU  RE  Li  A  N. 


LETTER    V. 

FROM     P1SO      TO      FAUSTA. 

I  am  now  returned  from  my  long  intended  visit  to  the 
villa  of  Marcus,  and  have  much  to  say  concerning  it. 

But,  first  of  all,  rejoice  with  me  in  a  fresh  demonstra 
tion  of  good  will,  on  the  part  of  Aurelian  towards  Zeno- 
bia.  And  what  think  you  it  is  ?  Nothing  less  than 
this,  that  Vabalathus  has  been  made,  by  Aurelian  and 
the  senate, 'king  of  Armenia  !  The  kingdom  is  not  large, 
but  large  enough  for  him  at  his  present  age  —  if  he  shall 
show  himself  competent,  additions  doubtless  will  be 
made.  Our  only  regret  is,  that  the  Queen  loses  thus  his 
presence  with  her  at  Tibur.  He  had  become  to  his 
mother  all  that  a  son  should  be.  Not  that  in  respect  to 
native  force  he  could  ever  make  good  the  loss  of  Julia, 
or  even  of  Li  via,  but,  that  in  all  the  many  offices  which 
an  affectionate  child  would  render  to  a  parent  in  the 
changed  circumstances  of  Zenobia,  he  has  proved  to  be 
a  solace  and  a  support. 

The  second  day  from  the  dedication,  passing  through 
the  Porta  Asinaria  with  Milo  at  my  side,  I  took  the  road 
that  winds  along  the  hither  bank  of  the  Tiber,  and  leads 
most  pleasantly,  if  not  most  directly,  to  the  seat  of  my 
friends  —  and  you  are  well  aware  how  willingly  I  sacri 
fice  a  little  time  on  the  way,  if  by  doing  so  I  can  more 
than  make  up  the  loss  by  obtaining  brighter  glimpses  of 
earth  and  sky.  Had  I  not  found  Christianity,  Fausta, 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N.  1*23 

this  would  have  been  my  religion.  I  should  have  for 
saken  the  philosophers,  and  gone  forth  into  the  fields, 
among  the  eternal  hills,  upon  the  banks  of  the  river,  or 
the  margin  of  the  ever-flowing  ocean,  and  in  the  lessons 
there  silently  read  to  me,  I  should,  I  think,  have  arrived 
at  some  very  firm  and  comfortable  faith  in  God  and  im 
mortality.  And  1  am  especially  happy  in  this,  that  na 
ture  in  no  way  loses  its  interest  or  value,  because  I  now 
draw  truth  from  a  more  certain  source.  I  take  the  same 
pleasure  as  before,  in  observing  and  contemplating  her 
various  forms,  and  the  clearer  light  of  Christianity  brings 
to  view  a  thousand  beauties,  to  which  before  I  was  in 
sensible.  Just  as  in  reading  a  difficult  author,  although 
you  may  have  reached  his  sense  in  some  good  degree, 
unaided,  yet  a  judicious  commentator  points  out  excel 
lences,  and  unfolds  truths,  which  you  had  either  wholly 
overlooked,  or  but  imperfectly  comprehended. 

All  without  the  city  walls,  as  within,  bore  witness  to 
the  graciousness  of  the  Emperor  in  the  prolonged  holi 
day  he  had  granted  the  people.  It  was  as  if  the  Satur 
nalia  had  arrived.  Industry,  such  as  there  ever  is,  was 
suspended ;  all  were  sitting  idle,  or  thronging  some 
game,  or  gathering  in  noisy  groups  about  some  mounte 
bank.  As  we  advanced  farther,  and  came  just  beyond 
the  great  road  leading  to  Tibur,  we  passed  the  school  of 
the  celebrated  gladiator  Sosia,  at  the  door  of  which  there 
had  just  arrived  from  the  amphitheatre,  a  cart  bearing 
home  the  bodies  of  such  as  had  been  slain  the  preceding 
day,  presenting  a  disgusting  spectacle  of  wounds,  brui 
ses,  and  flowing  blood. 

'  There  was  brave    fighting  yesterday,'   said   Milo  ; 
these  are  but  a  few  out  of  all  that  fell.     The  first  day's 


1 24  AURELIAN. 

sport  was  an  hundred  of  the  trained  gladiators,  most  ol 
them  from  the  school  of  Sosia,  set  against  a  hundred 
picked  captives  of  all  nations.  Not  less  tnan  a  half  ot 
each  number  got  it.  These  fellows  look  as  if  they  had 
done  their  best.  You've  fought  your  last  battle,  old 
boys — unless  you  have  a  bout  with  Charon,  who  will 
be  loath,  I  warrant  you  beforehand,  to  ferry  over  such  a 
slashed  and  swollen  company.  Now  ought  you  in 
charity,'  he  continued,  addressing  a  half-naked  savage, 
who  was  helping  to  drag  the  bodies  from  the  cart,  '  to 
have  these  trunks  well  washed  ere  you  bury  them,  or 
pitch  them  into  the  Tiber,  else  they  will  never  get  over 
the  Styx  —  not  forgetting  too  the  ferriage  — '  what 
more  folly  he  would  have  uttered,  I  know  not,  for  the 
wretch  to  whom  he  spoke  suddenly  seized  the  lash  of 
the  driver  of  the  cart,  and  laid  it  over  Milo's  shoulders, 
saying,  as  he  did  it, 

'  Off,  fool,  or  my  fist  shall  do  for  you  what  it  did  for 
one  of  these.' 

The  bystanders,  at  this,  set  up  a  hoarse  shouting,  one 
of  them  exclaiming,  so  that  I  could  hear  him  — 

'  There  goes  the  Christian  Piso,  we  or  the  lions  will 
have  a  turn  at  him  yet.  These  are  the  fellows  that 
spoil  our  trade.' 

'  If  report  goes  true,  they  won't  spoil  it  long,'  replied 
another. 

No  rank  and  no  power  is  secure  against  the  affronts 
of  this  lawless  tribe  ;  they  are  a  sort  of  license!  brawl 
ers,  their  brutal  and  inhuman  trade  rendering  them  in 
sensible  to  all  fear  from  any  quarter.  Death  is  to  them 
but  as  a  scratch  on  the  finger  —  they  care  not  for  it, 
when  nor  how  it  comes.  The  slightest  cause  —  a  oass- 


AURELIAN.  125 

ing  word  —  a  look  —  a  motion  —  is  enough  to  inflame 
their  ferocious  passions,  and  bring  on  quarrel  and  mur 
der.  Riot  and  death  are  daily  occurrences  in  the  neigh 
borhood  of  these  schools  of  trained  assassins.  Milo 
knew  their  character  well  enough,  but  he  deemed  him 
self  to  be  uttering  somewhat  that  should  amuse  rather 
than  enrage,  and  was  mortified  rather  than  terrified,  I 
believe,  at  the  sudden  application  of  the  lash.  The  un 
feigned  surprise  he  manifested,  together  with  the  quick 
leap  which  his  horse  made,  who  partook  of  the  blow, 
was  irresistibly  ludicrous.  He  was  nearly  thrown  off 
backwards  in  the  speed  of  the  animal's  flight  along  the 
road.  It  was  some  time  before  I  overtook  him. 

'  Intermeddling,'  I  said  to  Milo,  as  I  came  up  with 
him,  *  is  a  dangerous  vice.  How  feel  your  shoulders  ?' 

'  I  shall  remember  that  one-eyed  butcher,  and  if  there 
be  virtue  in  hisses  or  in  thumbs,  he  shall  rue  the  hour 
he  laid  a  lash  on  Gallienus,  poor  fellow !  Whose 
horsemanship  is  equal  to  such  an  onset  ?  I'll  haunt  the 
theatre  till  my  chance  come.' 

'  Well,  well,  let  us  forget  this.  How  went  the  games 
yesterday  ? ' 

*  Never,  as  I  hear,'  he  said,  *  and  as  I  remember,  were 
they  more  liberal,  or  more  magnificent.  Larger,  or 
more  beautiful,  or  finer  beasts,  neither  Asia  nor  Africa 
ever  sent  over.  They  fought  as  if  they  had  been  train 
ed  to  it,  like  these  scholars  of  Sosia,  and  in  most  cases 
they  bore  away  the  palm  from  them.  How  many  of 
Sosia's  men  exactly  fell,  it  is  not  known,  but  not  fewer 
than  threescore  men  were  either  torn  in  pieces,  or  res 
cued  too  much  lacerated  to  fight  more.' 
11*  VOL.  i. 


126  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

'What  captives  were   sacrificed?' 

*  I  did  not  learn  of  what  nation  they  were,  nor  how 
many.  All  I  know,  is  what  I  witnessed  toward  the  end 
of  the  sport.  Never  before  did  I  behold  such  a  form, 
nor  such  feats  of  strength  !  He  was  another  Hercules. 
It  was  rumored  he  was  from  the  forests  of  Germany.  If 
you  will  believe  it,  which  I  scarce  can,  though  I  saw  it, 
he  fought  successively  with  six  of  Sosia's  best  men,  and 
one  after  another  laid  them  all  sprawling.  A  seventh 
was  then  set  upon  him,  he  having  no  time  to  breathe,  or 
even  drink.  Many  however  cried  out  against  this.  But 
Romans,  you  know,  like  not  to  have  their  fun  spoiled, 
so  the  seventh  was  not  taken  ofT.  As  every  one  fore 
saw,  this  was  too  much  by  just  one  for  the  hero  ;  but  he 
fought  desperately,  and  it  is  believed  Sosia's  man  got 
pushes  he  will  never  recover  from.  He  was  soon  how 
ever  on  his  knees,  and  then  on  his  back,  the  sword  of 
his  antagonist  at  his  throat,  he  lying  like  a  gasping  fish 
at  his  mercy  —  who  waited  the  pleasure  of  the  specta 
tors  a  moment,  before  he  struck.  Then  was  there  a 
great  shouting  all  over  the  theatre  in  his  behalf,  besides 
making  the  sign  to  spare  him.  But  just  at  the  mo 
ment,  as  for  him  ill  fortune  would  have  it,  some  poltroon 
cried  out  with  a  voice  that  went  all  over  the  theatre, 
'  The  dog  is  a  Christian  ! '  Whereupon,  like  lightning, 
every  thumb  went  up,  and  down  plunged  the  sword  into 
his  neck.  So,  master,  thou  seest  what  1  tell  thee  every 
day,  there  is  small  virtue  in  being  a  Christian.  It  is 
every  way  dangerous.  If  a  thief  run  through  the  streets 
the  cry  is,  a  Christian  !  a  Christian  !  If  a  man  is  mur 
dered,  they  who  did  it  accuse  some  neighboring  Chris 
tian,  and  he  dies  for  it.  If  a  Christian  fall  into  the  Ti- 


AURELIAN.  127 

rabble  over  whom  it  exercises  a  sway  more  strict  than  an 
Eastern  despot.  He  is  by  these  acts  turning  the  current 
of  the  best  Roman  sympathy  toward  the  Christians,  and 
putting  off  by  a  long  remove  the  hour  when  he  might 
hope  to  see  the  ancient  religion  of  the  state  delivered 
from  its  formidable  rival.' 

*  It  is  the  purpose  of  Aurelian,'  I  said,  '  not  so  much 
to  persecute  and  annoy  the  Christians,  as  to  exterminate 
them.  He  is  persuaded  that  by  using  the  same  extreme 
and  summary  measures  with  the  Christians,  which  he  has 
been  accustomed  to  employ  in  the  army,  he  can  root  out 
this  huge  evil  from  the  state,  as  easily  as  those  lesser  ones 
from  the  camp  ;  —  without  reflecting  that  it  must  be  im 
possible  to  discover  all,  or  any  very  large  proportion  of 
those  who  profess  Christianity,  and  that  therefore  his 
slaughter  of  a  half  or  a  quarter  of  the  whole  number, 
will  be  to  no  purpose.  It  will  have  been  but  killing  so 
many  —  there  will  be  no  other  effect  ;  unless,  indeed,  it 
have  the  effect  to  convince  new  thousands  of  the  power, 
and  worth,  and  divinity  of  that  faith,  for  which  men  are 
so  willing  to  die.' 

'  I  mourn,'  said  Portia,  '  that  the  great  head  of  the 
state,  and  the  great  high  priest  of  our  religion  should 
have  taken  the  part  he  has.  Measures  of  moderation 
and  true  wisdom,  though  they  might  not  have  obtained 
for  him  so  great  a  name  for  zeal  and  love  of  the  gods, 
nor  made  so  sudden  and  deep  an  impression  upon  the 
common  mind  and  heart,  would  have  secured  with  great 
er  probability  the  end  at  which  he  has  aimed.' 

'  It  is  hard.'  said  I,  *  to  resist  nature,  especially  so 
when  superstition  comes  in  to  its  aid.  Aurelian,  by  na 
ture  a  savage,  is  doubly  one  through  the  influence  of  his 


128  AU  RE  L.I  AN. 

religion  and  the  priesthood.  Moderation  and  humanity 
are  so  contrary  to  every  principle  of  the  man  and  his 
faith,  that  they  are  not  with  more  reason  to  be  looked 
for  from  him  than  gentleness  in  a  famished  wolf.' 

Portia  looked  as  if  I  had  assailed  the  walls  ami 
capitol  of  Rome. 

'  I  know  not,  Greek,'  she  quickly  said,  '  on  what  foun 
dation  it  is  you  build  so  heavy  a  charge  against  the 
time-honored  faith  of  Rome.  It  has  served  Rome  well 
these  thousand  years,  and  reared  men  whose  greatness 
will  dwell  in  the  memory  of  the  world  while  the  world 
lasts.' 

*  Great  men  have   been   reared    in    Rome,'   I   repli 
ed ;  'it  can  by  none  be  denied.     But  it  has  been  by  re 
sisting  the  influences  of  their  religion,  not  by  courting 
them.     They  have  left  themselves  in  this  to  the  safer 
tutelage  of  nature,  as  have  your  lady ;  and  they  have  es 
caped  the  evils,  which  the  common  superstition   would 
have  entailed  upon  them,  had  they  admitted  it  to  their 
bosoms.     Who  can  deny  that  the  religion  of  Rome,  so 
far  as  it  is  a  religion  for  the  common  people,  is  based  up 
on  the  characters  of  the  gods, as  they  through  history  and 
tradition  are  held  up  to  them  —  especially  as  they  are 
painted  by  the  poets?     Say  if  there  be  any  other  books 
of  authority  on  this  great  theme  than  the  poets  ?     What 
book  of  religious  instruction  and  precept  have  you,  or 
have  you  ever  had,  corresponding  to  the  volume  of  the 
Christians,  called  their  gospels  ?  ' 

'  We  have  none,'  said  Portia,  as  I  paused  compelling 
a  rejoinder.  '  It  is  true,  we  have  but  our  historians  and 
our  poets,  with  what  we  find  in  the  philosophers.' 

*  And  the  philosophers,'  I  replied,  *  it  will  be  seen  at 


AUR  E  L  I  A  N.  129 

once  can  never  be  in  the  hands  of  the    common  people. 
Whence  then  do  they  receive  their  religious    ideas,  but 
from  tradition,  and  the  character  of  the  deities  of  heaven, 
as  they  are  set  forth  in  the  poets  ?     And  if  this  be  so,  1 
need  not  ask  whether  it  be  possible  that  the  religion  of 
Rome  should  be  any  other  than  a  source  of  corruption  to 
the  people.     So  far  as  the  gods  should  be  their  models, 
they  can  do  no  otherwise  than  help  to  sink  their   imita 
tors  lower  and  lower  in  all  filth  and  vice.      Happily  for 
Rome  and  the   world,  lady,  men   instinctively   revolt  at 
such  examples,  and  copy  instead  the  pattern  which  their 
own  souls  supply.     Had  the  Romans  been  all  which  the 
imitation  of  their  gods  would  have  made  them,  this  em 
pire  had  long  ago  sunk  under  the  deep  pollution.     Pronto 
and  Aurelian — the  last  at  least  sincere —  aim  at  a  resto 
ration  of  religion.     They  would  lift  it  up  to  the  highest 
place,  and  make  it  the  sovereign  law  of  Rome.     In  this 
attempt,  they  are  unconsciously  digging  away  her   very 
foundations  ;  they  are  leveling  her  proud  walls  with  the 
earth.     Suppose  Rome  were  made  what   Fronto  would 
have  her  ?     Every  Roman  were  then  another  Fronto  — 
or  another  Aurelian.     Were  that  a  world  to  live  in  ?  or 
to  endure  ?     These,  lady,   are    the    enemies   of  Rome, 
Aurelian  and  Fronto.     The  only  hope  for  Rome  lien  in 
the  reception  of  some  such  principles  as    these    of    the 
Christians.     Whether  true  or  false,  as  a  revelation  from 
Heaven,  they  are  in  accordance  with  the  best  part  of  our 
nature,  and,  once  spread  abroad  and  received,  they  would 
tend  by  a  mighty  influence  to  exalt  it  more    and    more. 
They  would  descend,  as  it  is  of  the  nature  of  absolute  truth 
to  do,  and  lay  hold  of  the  humblest  and  lowest  and  vilest, 
and  in  them  erect  their  authority,  and  bring  them  into 


130 


A  UR  ELI  AN. 


the  state,  in  which  every  man  should  be,  for  the  leason 
that  he  is  a  man.  Helenism  cannot  do  this.' 

'  Notwithstanding  what  I  have  heard,  Nicdmachus,  I 
think  you  must  yourself  be  a  Christian.  But  whether 
you  are  or  not,  I  grant  you  to  understand  well  what  re 
ligion  should  be.  And  I  must  say  that  it  has  ever  been 
such  to  me.  I,  from  what  I  have  read  of  our  moralists 
and  philosophers,  and  from  what  I  have  reflected,  have 
arrived  at  principles  not  very  different  from  such  as  you 
have  now  hinted  at — ' 

'  And  are  those  of  Pronto  or  Varus  like  yours,  lady  ?' 

*  I  fear  not,'  said  Portia. 

'  Yours  then,  let  me  say,  are  the  religion,  which  you 
have  first  found  within  your  own  breast,  a  gift  from  the 
gods,  and  then  by  meditation  have  confirmed  and  exalt 
ed  ;  theirs,  the  common  faith  of  Rome.  Could  your 
faith  rejoice  in  or  permit  the  horrors  I  have  this  day 
witnessed  and  but  now  described  ?  Yet  of  theirs  they 
are  the  legitimate  fruit,  the  necessary  product.' 

'  Out  of  the  best,'  replied  Portia,  '  I  believe,  Nicoma- 
chus,  may  often  come  the  worst.  There  is  naught  so 
perfect  and  so  wise,  but  human  passions  will  mar  and 
pervert  it.  I  should  not  wonder  if,  in  ages  to  come,  this 
peace-loving  faith  of  the  Christians,  should  it  survive  so 
long,  should  itself  come  to  preside  over  scenes  as  full  of 
misery  and  guilt  as  those  you  have  to-day  seen  in  the 
streets  of  Rome.' 

*  It  may  be,'  I  rejoined.     '  But  it  is  nevertheless  our 
duty,  in  the  selection  of  our  principles,  to  take  those 
which  are  the  purest,  the   most   humane,  the    most  ac 
cordant  with  what  is  best  in  us,  and  the    least   liable  to 
perversion  and  abuse.     And  whether,  if  this  be  just,  it 


A  U  R  E  L  I  AN  .  131 

be  better  that  mankind  should  have  presented  for  their 
imitation  and  honor  the  character  and  actions  of  Jesus 
Christ,  or  those  of  Jupiter  "  Greatest  and  Best,"  may  be 
left  for  the  simplest  to  determine.' 

Portia  is  so  staunch  a  Roman,  that  one  cannot  doubt 
that  as  she  was  born  and  has  lived,  so  she  will  die  —  a 
Roman.  And  truth  to  say,  were  all  like  her,  there  were 
little  room  for  quarrel  with  the  principles  that  could 
produce  such  results.  But  for  one  such,  there  are  a 
thousand  like  Varus,  Pronto,  and  Aurelian. 

As  after  this  interview,  which  was  prolonged  till  the 
shades  of  evening  began  to  fall,  I  held  communion  with 
myself  on  the  way  to  the  quiet  retreats  of  Tibur,  I  could 
not  "but  entertain  apprehensions  for  the  safety  of  the 
friends  I  had  just  left.  I  felt  that  where  such  men  as 
Varus  and  Fronto  were  at  the  head  of  affairs,  wielding, 
almost  as  they  pleased,  the  omnipotence  of  Aurelian,  no 
family  nor  individual  of  whatever  name  or  rank  could 
feel  secure  of  either  fortune  or  life.  I  had  heard  in 
deed  such  expressions  of  regard  fall  from  the  Emperor 
for  Piso  and  his  beautiful  wife,  that  I  was  sure  that  if 
any  in  Rome  might  feel  safe,  it  was  they.  Yet  why 
should  he,  who  had  fallen  with  fatal  violence  upon  one 
of  his  own  household,  and  such  a  one  as  Aurelia,  hesi 
tate  to  strike  the  family  of  Piso,  if  thereby  religion  or 
the  state  were  to  be  greatly  benefited  ?  I  could  see  a 
better  chance  for  them  only  in  the  Emperor's  early  love 
of  Julia,  which  still  seemed  to  exercise  over  him  a  sin 
gular  power. 

The  Queen,  I  found,  upon  naming  to  her  the  subject 
of  my  thoughts,  could  entertain  none  of  my  apprehen 
sions.  It  is  so  difficult  for  her  nature  to  admit  the 


132  AU  R  E  LI  A  N  . 

faintest  purpose  of  ihe  infliction  of  wanton  suffering,  tha 
she  cannot  believe  it  of  others.  Notwithstanding  her 
experience  of  the  harsh  and  cruel  spirit  of  Aurclian, 
notwithstanding  the  unnecessary  destruction,  for  any 
national  or  political  object,  of  the  multitudes  of  Palmyra, 
still  she  inclines  to  confide  in  him.  He  has  given  so 
many  proofs  of  regret  for  that  wide  ruin,  he  has  suffered 
so  much  for  it  —  especially  for  his  murder  of  Longinus 
—  in  the  opinion  of  all  Rome,  and  of  the  highest  and 
best  in  all  nations,  that  she  is  persuaded  he  will  be  more 
cautious  than  ever  whom  he  assails,  and  where  he  scat 
ters  ruin  and  death.  Still,  such  is  her  devotion  to  Julia 
and  her  love  of  Piso — so  entirely  is  her  very  life  lodged 
in  that  of  her  daughter,  that  she  resolved  to  seek  jthe 
Emperor  without  delay,  and  if  possible  obtain  an  assu 
rance  of  their  safety,  both  from  his  own  arm  and  that  of 
popular  violence.  This  I  urged  upon  her  with  all  the 
freedom  I  might  use  ;  and  not  in  vain  ;  for  the  next  day, 
at  the  gardens  of  Sallust,  she  had  repeated  interviews 
with  Aurelian — and  afterward  at  her  own  palace,  whither 
Aurelian  came  with  Livia,  and  where,  while  Livia 
ranged  among  the  flowers  with  Faustula,  the  Emperor 
and  the  Queen  held  earnest  discourse  —  not  only  on  the 
subject  which  chiefly  agitated  Zenobia,  but  on  the  gen 
eral  principles  on  which  he  was  proceeding  in  this  at 
tempted  annihilation  of  Christianity.  Sure  I  am,  that 
never  in  the  Christian  body  itself  was  there  one  who 
pleaded  their  cause  with  a  more  winning  and  persuasive 
eloquence. 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  133 

all.  Curtius,  although  fond  of  power  and  of  ail  its 
ensigns,  yet  conceals  not  his  hatred  of  this  institution, 
which  has  so  long  obtained  in  the  Roman  state,  as  in 
all  states.  He  can  devise  no  way  of  escape  from  it  ; 
but  he  sees  in  it  the  most  active  and  general  cause  of 
the  corruption  of  morals  which  is  spread  everywhere 
where  it  prevails.  He  cannot  suppress  his  contempt  of 
the  delusion  or  hypocrisy  of  our  ancestors  in  terming 
themselves  republicans. 

1  What  a  monstrous  solecism  was  it,'  he  broke  out 
with  energy,  '  in  the  times  preceding  the  empire,  to  call 
that  a  free  country  which  was  built  upon  the  degrada 
tion  and  slavery  of  half  of  its  population.  Rome  never 
was  a  republic.  It  was  simply  a  faction  of  land  and 
slave  holders,  who  blinded  and  befooled  4he  ignorant 
populace,  by  parading  before  them  some  of  the  forms  of 
liberty,  but  kept  the  power  in  their  own  hands.  They 
were  a  community  of  petty  kings,  which  was  better  in 
their  mind  than  only  one  king,as  in  the  time  of  the  Tar- 
quins.  It  was  a  republic  of  kingdoms  and  of  kings,  if 
you  will.  Now  and  then,  indeed,  the  people  bustled 
about  and  shook  their  chains,  as  in  the  times  of  the  in 
stitution  of  the  tribune's  office,  and  those  of  the  Grac 
chi.  But  they  gained  nothing.  The  patricians  were 
still  the  kings  who  ruled  them.  And  among  no  people 
can  there  be  liberty  where  slavery  exists  —  liberty,  I 
mean,  properly  so  called.  He  who  holds  slaves  cannot, 
in  the  nature  of  things,  be  a  republican  ;  but,  in  the  na 
ture  of  things,  he  is  on  the  other  hand  a  despot.  I  am 
one.  And  a  nation  of  such  individuals  is  an  association 
of  despots  for  despotic  purposes,  and  nothing  else  noi 

12  VOL.  L 


134  A  r  B  E  L  I  A  N  . 

better.  Liberty  in  their  mouths  is  a  profanation  of  the 
sacred  name.  It  signifies  nothing  but  their  liberty  to 
reign.  I  confess,  it  is  to  those  who  happen  to  be  the 
kings  a  very  agreeable  state  of  things.  I  enjoy  my 
power  and  state  mightily.  But  I  am  not  blind  to  the 
fact  —  my  own  experience  teaches  it —  that  it  is  a  state 
of  things  corrupt  and  rotten  to  the  heart  —  destructive 
everywhere  of  the  highest  form  of  the  human  character. 
It  nurses  and  brings  out  the  animal,  represses  and  em- 
brutes  the  god  that  is  within  us.  It  makes  of  man  a 
being  of  violence,  force,  passion,  and  the  narrowest  sel 
fishness  ;  while  reason  and  humanity,  which  should 
distinguish  him,  are  degraded  and  oppressed.  Such 
men  are  not  the  stuff  that  republics  are  made  of.  A  re 
public  may  endure  for  a  time  in  spite  of  them,  owing  to 
fortunate  circumstances  of  another  kind  ;  but  wherever 
they  obtain  a  preponderance  in  the  state,  liberty  will 
expire,  or  exist  only  in  the  insulting  forms  in  which  she 
waved  her  bloody  sceptre  during  most  of  our  early  his 
tory.  Slavery  and  despotism  are  natural  allies.' 

c  I  rejoice,'  I   said,  *  to  find  a  change   in  you,   at  least 
in  the  theory  which  you  adopt.' 

1  I  certainly  am  changed,'  he  replied  ;  *  and  such  as 
the  change  may  be,  is  it  owing,  sir  Christian,  to  thy 
calm  and  yet  fiery  epistles  from  Palmyra.  Small 
thanks  do  I  owe  thee  for  making  me  uncomfortable  in 
a  position  from  which  I  cannot  escape.  Once  proud  of 
my  slaves  and  my  power,  I  am  already  ashamed  ot 
both  ;  but  while  my  principles  have  altered,  my  habits 
and  character,  which  slavery  has  created  and  nursed 
remain  beyond  any  power  of  man,  so  far  as  I  can  see, 
to  change  them.  What  they  are,  you  well  know.  So 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N.  135 

that  here,  in  my  middle  age,  I  suffer  a  retribution,  that 
should  have  been  reserved  till  I  had  been  dismissed 
from  the  dread  tribunal  of  Rhadamanthus.' 

'  I  see  not,  Curtius,  why  you  should  not  escape  from 
the  position  you  are  in,  if  you  sincerely  desire  it,  which 
I  suppose  you  do  not.' 

*  That,  to  be  honest  —  which  at  least  I  am  —  is  I  be 
lieve  the  case.' 

'  I  do  not  doubt  it,  as  it  is  with  all  who  are  situated 
like  yourself.  Most,  however,  defend  the  principle  as 
well  as  cling  to  the  form  of  slavery.' 

'  Nay,  that  I  cannot  do.  That  I  never  did,  since  my 
beard  was  grown.  I  fancy  myself  to  have  from  the 
gods  a  good  heart.  He  is  essentially  of  a  corrupt  heart 
who  will  stand  for  slavery  in  its  principle.  He  is  with 
out  anything  generous  in  his  nature.  Cold  selfishness 
marks  and  makes  him.  But  supposing  I  as  sincerely 
desired  to  escape  —  as  I  sincerely  do  not  —  what,  O 
most  wise  mentor,  should  be  the  manner  ?' 

'  First  and  at  once,  to  treat  them  no  longer  as  slaves, 
but  as  men.' 

'  That  I  am  just  beginning  to  do.     What  else  ?' 

1  If  you  are  sincere,  as  I  say,  and  moreover,  if  you 
possess  the  exalted  and  generous  traits  which  we  pa 
tricians  ever  claim  for  ourselves,  show  it  them  by  giv 
ing  their  freedom  one  by  one  to  those  who  are  now 
slaves,  even  though  it  result  in  the  loss  of  one  half  of 
your  fortune.  That  will  be  a  patrician  act.  What  was 
begun  in  crime  by  others,  cannot  be  perpetuated  without 
equal  crime  in  us.  The  enfranchised  will  soon  mingle 
with  the  people,  and,  as  we  see  every  day,  become  one 
with  it.  This  process  is  going  on  at  this  moment  in  all 


136  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N. 

my  estates.  Before  my  will  is  executed,  I  shall  hopa 
to  have  disposed  in  this  manner  of  every  slave  in  my 
possession.' 

'  One  can  hardly  look  to  emulate  such  virtues  as  this 
new-found  Christian  philosophy  seems  to  have  engen 
dered  within  thy  .  noble  bosom,  Piso  ;  but  the  subject 
must  be  weighed.  There  is  nothing  so  agreeable  in 
prospect  as  to  do  right  ;  but,  like  some  distant  stretches 
of  land  and  hill,  water  and  wood,  the  beauty  is  all  gone 
as  it  draws  near.  It  is  then  absolutely  a  source  of  pain 
and  disgust.  I  will  write  a  treatise  upon  the  great 
theme.' 

4  If  you  write,  Curtius,  I  shall  despair  of  any  action, 
all  your  philanthropy  will  evaporate  in  a  cloud  of 
words.' 

'  But  that  will  be  the  way,  I  think,  to  restore  my 
equanimity.  I  believe  I  shall  feel  quite  easy  after  a 
little  declamation.  Here,  Lucius,  regale  thyself  upon 
these  grapes.  These  are  from  the  isles  of  the  Grecian 
Archipelago,  and  for  sweetness  are  not  equalled  by  any 
of  our  own.  Gallus,  Gallus,  go  not  so  near  to  the  edge 
of  the  pond  ;  it  is  deep,  as  I  have  warned  you.  I  have 
lampreys  there,  Piso,  bigger  than  any  that  Hortensius 
ever  wept  for.  Gallus,  you  dog  !  away,  I  say.' 

But  Gallus  heeded  not  the  command  of  his  father. 
He  already  was  beginning  to  have  a  little  will  of  his 
own.  He  continued  playing  upon  the  margin  of  the 
water,  throwing  in  sticks  for  his  dog  to  bring  to  him 
again.  Perceiving  his  danger  to  be  great,!  went  to  him 
and  forcibly  drew  him  away,  he  and  his  dog  setting  up 
a  frightful  music  of  screams  and  yelping.  Marcu<=  was 
both  entertained  and  amazed  at  the  feat. 


AURE  LI  A  N  .  137 

Piso,'  he  jocosely  cried  out,  '  there  is  a  good  deal  of 
the  old  republican  in  you.  You  even  treat  free  men  as 
slaves.  That  boy  —  a  man  in  will  —  never  had  before 
such  restraint  upon  his  liberty.' 

'  Liberty  with  restraint,'  I  answered,  '  operating  upon 
all,  and  equally  upon  all,  is  the  true  account  of  a  state 
of  freedom.  Gallus  unrestrained  is  a  slave  —  a  slave  of 
passion  and  the  sport  of  chance.  He  is  not  truly  free 
until  he  is  bound.' 

With  such  talk  we  amused  ourselves  as  we  wandered 
over  the  estate,  through  its  more  wild  and  more  culti 
vated  parts.  Dinner  was  presently  announced,  and  we 
hastened  to  the  house. 

Lucilia  awaited  us  in  a  small  six-sided  cabinet,  fitted 
up  purposely  for  a  dining-room  for  six  or  eight  persons. 
It  was  wholly  cased  with  a  rich  marble  of  a  pale  yellow 
hue,  beautifully  panelled,  having  three  windows  open 
ing  upon  a  long  portico  with  a  southern  aspect,  set  out 
with  exotics  in  fancifully  arranged  groups.  The  mar 
ble  panels  of  the  room  were  so  contrived  that,  at  a 
touch,  they  slipped  aside  and  disclosed  in  rich  array, 
here  the  choicest  wines,  there  sauces  and  spices  of  a 
thousand  sorts,  and  there  again  the  rarest  confections 
brought  from  China  and  the  East.  Apicius  himself 
could  have  fancied  nothing  more  perfect — for  the  least 
dissatisfaction  with  the  flavor  of  a  dish,  or  the  kind  of 
wine,  could  be  removed  by  merely  reaching  out  the 
hand  and  drawing,  from  an  inexhaustible  treasure-house, 
both  wines  and  condiments,  such  as  scarce  Rome  itsell 
could  equal.  This  was  an  apartment  contrived  and 
built  by  Hortensius  himself. 
12*  VOL.  i. 


138  AU  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

The  dinner  was  worthy  the  room  and  its  builder,  the 
marbles,  the  prospect,  the  guest,  the  host,  and  the 
hostess.  The  aforementioned  Apicius  would  have  nev 
er  once  thought  of  the  panelled  cupboards.  No  dish 
would  have  admitted  of  addition  or  alteration. 

When  the  feasting  was  over,  and  with  it  the  lighter 
conversation,  and  more  disjointed  and  various,  which 
usually  accompanies  it,  Marcus  arose,  and  withdrawing 
one  of  the  sliding  panels,  with  much  gravity  and  state, 
drew  forth  a  glass  pitcher  of  exquisite  form  filled  with 
wine,  saying,  as  he  did  so, 

1  All,  Piso,  that  you  have  as  yet  tasted  is  but  as  water 
of  the  Tiber  to  this.  This  is  more  than  nectar.  The 
gods  have  never  been  so  happy  as  to  have  seen  the 
like.  I  am  their  envy.  It  is  Falernian,  that  once 
saw  the  wine  vaults  of  Heliogabalus  !  Not  a  drop  of 
Chian  has  ever  touched  it.  It  is  pure,  unadulterate. 
Taste,  and  be  translated.' 

I  acknowledged,  as  I  well  might,  its  unequalled  flavor. 

'  This  nectarean  draught,'  he  continued,  '  I  even  con 
sider  to  possess  purifying  and  exalting  qualities.  He 
who  drinks  it  is  for  the  time  of  a  higher  nature.  It  is 
better  for  the  temper  than  a  chapter  of  Seneca  or  Epic- 
tetus.  It  brings  upon  the  soul  a  certain  divine  calm, 
favorable  beyond  any  other  state  to  the  growth  of  the 
virtues.  Could  it  become  of  universal  use,  mankind 
were  soon  a  race  of  gods.  Even  Christianity  were  then 
made  unnecessary  —  admitting  it  to  be  that  unrivalled 
moral  engine  which  you  Christians  affirm  it  to  be.  It 
is  favorable  also  to  dispassionate  discussion,  Piso,  a  little 
f  which  I  would  now  invite.  Know  you  not,  I  have 
scarce  seen  you  since  your  assumption  of  your  new 


AURELIAN.  139 

name  and  faith  ?  What  bad  demon  possessed  you,  in 
evil  hour,  to  throw  Rome  and  your  friends  into  such  a 
ferment  ? ' 

*  Had  you  become,  Lucius,'  said  Lucilia,  «  a  declaim 
ing   advocate   of  Epicurus,  or   a   street-lecturer    upon 
Plato,  or  turned  priest  of  Apollo's  new  temple,  it  would 
have    all  been   quite    tolerable,  though  amazing  —  but 
Christian  !  ' — 

'  Yes,  Lucius,  it  is  too  bad,'  added  Marcus.  '  If  you 
were  in  want  of  moral  strength,  you  would  have  done 
better  to  have  begged  some  of  my  Falernian.  You 
should  not  have  been  denied.' 

1  Or,'  said  Lucilia,  *  some  of  my  Smyrna  cordial.' 

'  At  least,'  continued  Marcus,  '  you  might  have  come 
to  me  for  some  of  my  wisdom,  which  I  keep  ready,  at  a 
moment's  warning,  in  quantities  to  suit  all  applicants. ' 

4  Or  to  me,'  said  Lucilia,  *  for  some  of  my  every  day 
good-sense,  which,  you  know,  I  possess  in  such  abun 
dance,  though  I  have  not  sat  at  the  feet  of  philoso 
phers.' 

*  But    seriously,    Lucius,'    began  Marcus  in  altered 
mood,    '  this    is    a    most    extraordinary  movement  of 
yours.     I  should  like  to  be  able  to  interpret  it.     If  you 
must  needs  have  what  you  call  religion,  of  which  I,  for 
my  part,  can  see  no  earthly  occasion,  here  were  plenty 
of  forms  in  which  to  receive  it,  more  ancient  and  more 
respectable  than  this  of  the  Christians.' 

'  I  am  almost  unwilling  to  converse  on  this  topic  with 
you,  Marcus,'  I  rejoined,  *  for  there  is  nothing  in  your 
nature,  or  rather  in  your  educated  nature,  to  which  to 
appeal  with  the  least  hope  of  any  profitable  result,  either 
to  me,  or  you.  The  gods  have,  as  you  say,  given  you 


140  A.  U  R  E  L  1  A  N  . 

a  good  heart  —  I  may  add  too,  a  most  noble  head  ;  but, 
yourself  and  education  together,  have  made  you  so 
thoroughly  a  man  of  the  world,  that  the  interests  of 
any  other  part  of  your  nature,  save  those  of  the  intellect 
and  the  senses,  are  to  you  precisely  as  if  they  did  not 
exist.' 

'  Right,  Lucius  ;  therein  do  I  claim  honor  and  distinc 
tion.  The  intangible,  the  invisible,  the  vague,  the  shad 
owy,  I  leave  to  women  and  priests  —  concerning  myself 
only  with  the  substantial  realities  of  life.  Great  Jupi 
ter  !  what  would  become  of  mankind  were  we  all  wom 
en,  and  priests  ?  How  could  the  courts  go  on —  senates 
sit,  and  deliberate  —  armies  conquer?  I  think  the  world 
would  stand  still.  However,  I  object  not  to  a  popular 
faith,  such  as  that  which  now  obtains  throughout  the 
Roman  world.  If  mankind,  as  history  seems  to  prove, 
must  and  will  have  something  of  the  kind,  this  perhaps 
is  as  good  as  anything  else  ;  and,  seeing  it  has  once  be 
come  established  and  fixed  in  the  way  it  has,  I  think  it 
ought  no  more  to  be  disturbed  than  men's  faith  in  their 
political  institutions.  Our  concern  should  be,  merely  to 
regulate  it,  that  it  grow  not  too  large,  and  so  overlay 
and  crush  the  state.  Fanatics  and  bigots  must  be  hewn 
away.  There  must  be  an  occasional  infusion  of  doubt 
and  indifference  into  the  mass,  to  keep  it  from  ferment 
ing.  You  cannot  be  offended,  Lucius,  at  the  way  in 
which  I  speak  of  your  new-adopted  faith.  I  think  no 
better  of  any  other.  Epicureans,  Stoics,  Platonists, 
Jews,  Christians,  they  are  all  alike  to  me.  I  hold  them 
all  at  arms  length.  I  have  listened  to  them  all  ;  and 
more  idle,  indigested  fancies  never  did  I  hear —  no,  no* 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N.  141 

from  the  new-fledged  advocate  playing  the  rhetorician 
at  his  first  appearance.' 

'  I  do  not  wonder,  Curtius,  that  you  have  turned  away 
dissatisfied  with  the  philosophers.  I  do  not  wonder 
that  you  reject  the  popular  superstitions.  But  I  do 
wonder,  that  you  will  prejudge  any  question,  or  infer 
the  intrinsic  incredibility  of  whatever  may  take  the  form 
of  religion,  from  tlra  intrinsic  incredibility  of  what  the 
world  has  heretofore  possessed.  It  surely  is  not  a  phi 
losophical  method.' 

*  Not  in  other  things,  I  grant,'  replied  Marcus  ;  *  but 
concerning  this  question  of  popular  superstition,  or  reli 
gion,  the  only  philosophical  thing  is,  to  discard  the 
whole  subject,  as  one  deserving  severe  investigation. 
The  follies  which  the  populace  have,  in  all  nations,  and 
in  all  time,  adopted,  let  them  be  retained,  and  even  de 
fended  and  supported  by  the  State.  They  perform  a  not 
unimportant  office  in  regulating  the  conduct,  and  man 
ners  of  men  —  in  preserving  a  certain  order  in  the 
world.  But  beyond  this,  it  seems  to  me,  the  subject  is 
unworthy  the  regard  of  a  reflecting  person.  One  world 
and  one  life  is  enough  to  manage  at  a  time.  If  there 
be  others,  and  if  there  be  a  God  who  governs  them,  it 
will  be  time  enough  to  know  these  things  when  they  are 
made  plain  to  the  senses,  as  these  trees  and  hills  now 
are,  and  your  well-shaped  form.  This  peering  into  fu 
turity,  in  the  expectation  to  arrive  at  certainty,  seems  to 
me  much  as  if  one  should  hope  to  make  out  the  forms 
of  cities,  palaces,  and  groves,  by  gazing  into  the  empty 
air,  or  on  the  clouds.  Besides,  of  what  use  ? ' 

'  Of  what  use  indeed  ?'  added  Lucilia.  *  I  want  no 
director  or  monitor,  concerning  any  duty  or  act,  which 


142  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N. 

it  falls  to  me  to  perform,  other  than  I  find  within  me.  1 
have  no  need  of  a  divine  messenger,  to  stand  ever  at  rny 
side,  to  tell  me  what  I  must  do,  and  what  I  must  for 
bear.  I  have  within  me  instincts  and  impulses,  which 
I  find  amply  sufficient.  The  care  and  duty  of  every 
day  is  very  much  alike,  and  a  little  experience  and  ob 
servation,  added  to  the  inward  instinct,  makes  me  quite 
superior  to  most  difficulties  and  evils  as  they  arise.  The 
gods,  or  whatever  power  gave  us  our  nature,  have  not 
left  us  dependent  for  these  things,  either  on  what  is 
called  religion  or  philosophy.' 

'What  you  say,'  I  rejoined,  'is  partly  true.*  The 
gods  have  not  left  us  dependent  exclusively,  upon  either 
religion,  or  philosophy.  There  is  a  natural  religion  of 
the  heart  and  the  conscience,  which  is  born  with  us, 
grows  up  with  us,  and  never  forsakes  us.  But  then, 
after  all,  how  defective  and  incomplete  a  principle  it 
is.  It  has  chiefly  to  do,  only  with  our  daily  conduct  ; 
it  cannot  answer  our  doubts,  or  satisfy  our  most  real 
wants.  It  differs  too  with  the  constitution  of  the  indi 
vidual.  In  some,  it  is  a  principle  of  much  greater  value 
and  efficacy,  than  in  others.  Your  instincts  are  clear, 
and  powerful,  and  direct  you  aright.  But,  in  another, 
they  are  obscure,  and  weak,  and  leave  the  mind  in  the 
greatest  perplexity.  It  is  by  no  means  all  that  they 
want.  Then,  are  not  the  prevalent  superstitions  most 
injurious  in  their  influences  upon  the  common  mind  ? 
Can  you  doubt,  whether  more  of  good  or  evil,  is  derived 
to  the  soul,  from  the  ideas  it  entertains  of  the  character, 
and  providence  of  the  gods  ?  Can  you  be  insensible  to 
the  horrible  enormities,  and  nameless  vices,  which  make 
a  part,  even  of  what  is  called  religion  ?  And  is  there 


AV  KL<_  ;  45. 

no  need  —  if  men  will  have  religion  in  some  form  — 
that  they  should  receive  it  in  a  better  one  ?  Can  you 
not  conceive  of  such  views  of  God  and  his  worship,  of 
duty,  virtue,  and  immortality  being  presented,  that  they 
shall  strike  the  mind  as  reasonable  in  themselves,  and 
of  beneficial  instead  of  hftrtful  power,  upon  being  adop 
ted  ?  Can  you  not  imagine  your  own  mind,  and  the 
minds  of  people  generally,  to  be  so  devoted  to  a  high 
and  sublime  conception  of  the  Divinity,  and  of  futurity, 
as  to  be  absolutely  incapable  of  an  act,  that  should  dis 
please  him,  or  forfeit  the  hope  of  immortality  ? ' 

'  Hardly,'  said  Marcus  and  Lucilia. 

1  Well,  suppose  it  were  so.  Or  rather,  if  you  cannot 
imagine  such  a  state  of  things,  multitudes  can.  You 
are  not  a  fair  specimen  of  our  kind,  but  only  of  a  com 
paratively  small  class.  Generally  —  so  I  have  found  it 
—  the  mind  is  seeking  about  for  something  better  than 
what  any  human  system  has  as  yet  proposed,  and  is 
confident  of  nothing  more  than  of  this,  that  men  may 
be  put  in  possession  of  truths,  that  shall  carry  them  on 
as  far  beyond  what  their  natural  instincts  now  can  do, 
as  these  instincts  carry  them  on  beyond  any  point  to 
which  the  brutes  ever  arrive.  This,  certainly,  was  my 
own  conviction,  before  I  met  with  Christianity.  Now, 
Marcus  and  Lucilia,  what  is  this  Christianity,  but  a  rev 
elation  from  Heaven,  whose  aim  is  to  give  to  you,  and 
to  all,  such  conceptions  of  God,  and  futurity,  as  I  have 
just  spoken  of? ' — I  then,  finding  that  I  had  obtained  a 
hearing,  went  into  an  account  of  the  religion  of  Christ, 
as  I  had  received  it  from  the  books  themselves,  and 
which  to  you  I  need  not  repeat.  They  listened  with 
considerable  patience  —  though  I  was  careful  not  to  use 


144  AUREL1AN. 

many  words  —  but  without  any  expression  of  counten 
ance,  or  manner,  that  indicated  any  very  favorable 
change  in  their  opinions  or  feelings.  As  I  ended,  Mar 
cus  said, 

4  I  shall  always  think  better  of  this  religion,  Lucius, 
that  you  have  adopted  it,  though  I  cannot  say  that  your 
adopting  it,  will  raise  my  judgment  of  you.  I  do  not 
at  present  see  upon  what  grounds  it  stands  so  firm,  or 
divine,  that  a  citizen  is  d<  ft  nsible  in  abandoning  for  it, 
an  ostensible  reception  <  f,  and  faith  in,  the  existing 
forms  of  the  State.  HOST  3/er,  I  incline  to  allow  free 
dom  in  these  matters  to  s  ,1  olars  and  speculative  minds. 
Let  them  work  out  and  c njoy  their  own  fancies  —  they 
are  a  restless,  discontented,  ambitious  herd,  and  should, 
for  the  sake  of  their  genii-.s,  be  humored  in  the  particu 
lar  pursuits  where  they  have  placed  their  happiness. 
But,  when  they  leave  tkeir  proper  vocation,  and  turn 
propagators  and  reformer^  ani  aim  at  the  subversion  of 
things  now  firmly  established  Jind  prosperous,  then  — 
although  I  myself  should  never  meddle  in  such  matters 
—  it  is  scarcely  a  question  whether  the  power  of  the 
State  should  interpose,  and  lay  upon  them  the  necessary 
restraints.  Upon  the  whole,  Lucius  Piso,  I  think,  that 
I,  and  Lucilia,  had  better  turn  preachers,  and  exhort 
you  to  return  to  the  faith,  or  no-faith,  which  you  have 
abandoned.  Leave  such  things  to  take  care  of  them 
selves.  What  have  you  gained  but  making  yourself  an 
object  of  popular  aversion  or  distrust  ?  You  have  aban 
doned  the  community  of  the  polite,  the  refined,  the  so 
ber,  where  by  nature  you  belong,  and  have  associated 
yourself  with  a  vulgar  crew,  of —  forgive  my  freedom, 
I  speak  the  common  judgment,  that  you  may  know  what 


A  T7  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  145 

it  is  —  of  ignorant  fanatics  or  crafty  knaves,  who  care 
for  you  no  further,  than  as  by  your  great  name,  they 
may  stand  a  little  higher  in  the  world.  I  protest,  before 
Jupiter,  that  to  save  others  like  you  from  such  loss,  I 
feel  tempted  to  hunt  over  the  statute  books  for  some 
law,  now  obsolete  and  forgotten,  but  not  legally  dead, 
that  may  be  brought  to  bear  upon  this  mischief,  and 
give  it  another  Decian  blight,  which,  if  it  do  not  kill, 
may  yet  check,  and  obstruct  its  growth.' 

I  replied,  '  that  from  him  I  could  apprehend,  he  well 
knew,  no  such  deed  oi  folly  or  guilt  —  however  likely 
it  was  that  others  might,  do  it,  and  glory  in  their  shame; 
that  his  nature  would  save  him  from  such  a  deed,  though 
his  principles  might  not.'  I  told  him,  moreover,  '  that  I 
did  not  despair  of  his  looking  upon  Christianity  with  a 
favorable  judgment  in  good  time.  He  had  been  willing 
to  hear  ;  and  there  was  that  secret  charm  in  the  truths 
and  doctrines  of  Christ's  religion,  and  especially  in  his 
character,  that,  however  rudely  set  forth,  the  mind  could 
scarcely  resist  it ;  against  its  will,  it  would,  oftentimes, 
find  itself  subdued  and  changed.  The  seeds  I  have 
now  dropt  upon  your  hearts,  I  trust,  will  some  day 
spring  up,  and  bear  such  fruit  as  you  yourselves  will 
rejoice  in.' 

'  So,'  said  Marcus,  '  may  the  wheat  spilled  into  the 
Tiber,  or  sown  among  rocks,  or  eaten  by  the  birds.' 

'  And  that  may  be,  though  not  to-day  or  to-morrow,' 
I  replied.  '  The  seed  of  things  essential  to  man's  life, 
as  of  wheat,  is  not  easily  killed.  It  may  be  buried  for 
years  and  years,  yet,  turned  up  at  length,  to  the  sun, 
and  its  life  sprouts  upward  in  leaf,  and  stem,  and  fruit. 
13  VOL.  i. 


146  A  U  R  E  L  I  AN  . 

Borne  down  by  the  waters  of  the  Tiber,  and  apparently 
lost,  it  may  be  cast  up  upon  the  shores  of  Egypt,  or  Brit 
ain,  and  fulfil  its  destiny.  The  seed  of  truth  is  longer- 
lived  still  —  by  reason  that  what  it  bears  is  more  essen 
tial  than  wheat,  or  other  grain,  to  man's  best  life.' 

*  Well,  well,'  said  Marcus,  '  let  us  charge  our  goblets 
with    the    bottom    of    this    Falernian,   and    forgetting 
whether  there  be  such  an  entity  as  truth   or   not,    drink 
to  the  health  of  the  princess  Julia.' 

*  That  comes  nearer  our  hearts,'  said    Lucilia,  '  than 
anything  that  has  been  spoken  for  the  last  hour.    When 
you  return,  Lucius,  Laco  must  follow  you  with  a  mule- 
load  of  some  of  my  homely  products  ' She  was 

about  to  add  more,  when  we  were  all  alike  startled  and 
alarmed  by  cries,  seemingly  of  deep  distress,  and  rapid 
ly  approaching.     We  sprang  from  our  seats,  when  the 
door  of  the   room  was  violently  flung  open,  and  a  slave 
rushed  in,  crying  out, 

4  Oh,  sir  !  Gallus  —  Gallus '  — 

4  What  is  it  ?  What  is  it  ? '  —  cried  Marcus  and  Lu 
cilia.  '  Speak  quick  —  has  he  fallen — ' 

'  Yes,  alas  !  the  pond  —  the  fish-pond  —  run  —  fly  — ' 

Distractedly  we  hurried  to  the  spot  already  surround 
ed  by  a  crowd  of  slaves.  '  Who  had  been  with  him  ? 
Where  had  he  fallen  ?  How  did  it  happen  ?'  were  ques 
tions  hastily  asked,  but  which  no  one  could  answer.  It 
was  a  miserable  scene  of  agony,  confusion,  and  despair 
—  Marcus  ordering  his  slaves  to  dive  into  the  rond, 
then  uttering  curses  upon  them,  and  commanding  those 
to  whom  Gallus  was  usually  entrusted,  to  the  rack.  No 
one  could  swim,  no  one  could  dive.  It  was  long  since 
I  had  made  use  of  an  art  which  I  once  possessed,  but 


AURELIAN.  147 

instantly  1  cast  off  my  upper  garments,  and,  needing  no 
other  direction  to  the  true  spot  than  the  barking  of  the 
little  dog,  and  his  jumping  in  and  out  of  the  water  — 
first  learning  that  the  water  was  deep,  and  of  an  even 
bottom,  I  threw  myself  in,  and,  in  a  moment,  guided  by 
the  white  dress  of  the  little  fellow,  I  grasped  him,  and 
drew  him  to  the  surface. 

Life  was  apparently,  and  probably,  to  my  mind,  ex 
tinct  ;  but  expressing  a  hope  that  means  might  yet  be 
resorted  to  that  should  restore  him,  I  bore  him  in  my 
arms  to  the  house.  But  it  was  all  in  vain.  Gallus 
was  dead. 

I  shall  not  inflict  a  new  sadness  upon  you,  Fausta,  by 
describing  the  grief  of  my  friends,  or  any  of  the  inci 
dents  of  the  days  and  weeks  I  now  passed  with  them. 
They  were  heavy,  and  melancholy  indeed  ;  for  the  sor 
rows,  of  both  Lucilia  and  Marcus,  were  excessive  and 
inconsolable.  I  could  do  nothing  for  them,  nor  say 
anything  to  them  in  the  hope  to  comfort  them  ;  yet, 
while  they  were  thus  incapacitated  for  all  action,  I  could 
serve  them  essentially  by  placing  myself  at  the  head 
of  their  affairs,  and  relieving  them  of  common  cares  and 
duties,  that  must  otherwise  have  been  neglected,  or 
have  proved  irksome  and  oppressive. 

The  ashes  of  Gallus,  committed  to  a  small  marble 
urn,  have  been  deposited  in  a  tomb  in  the  centre  of 
Lucilia's  flower  garden,  which  will  soon  be  embowered 
by  flowers  and  shrubs,  which  her  hand  will  delight  to 
train  around  it. 

On  the  eve  of  the  day  when  I  was  to  leave  them  and 
return  to  Rome,  we  sat  together  in  a  portico  which 


148  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N. 

overlooks  the  Tiber.  Marcus  and  Lucilia  were  sad, 
but,  at  length,  in  some  sort,  calm.  The  first  violence 
of  sorrow  had  spent  itself,  and  reflection  was  beginning 
to  succeed. 

*  I  suppose,'  said  Marcus,  '  your  rigid  faith  greatly 
condemns  all  this  show  of  suffering,  which  you  have 
witnessed,  Piso,  in  us,  as,  if  not  criminal,  at  least  weak 
and  childish  ? ' 

'  Not  so,  by  any  means,'  I  rejoined.  '  The  religion  of 
the  Christians,  is  what  one  may  term  a  natural  religion  ; 
it  does  violence  to  not' one  of  the  good  affections  and 
propensities.  Coming,  as  we  maintain,  from  the  Creator 
of  our  bodies  and  our  minds,  it  does  them  no  injury,  it 
wars  not  with  any  of  their  natural  elements,  but  most 
strictly  harmonizes  with  them.  It  aims  to  direct,  to 
modify,  to  heal,  to  moderate  —  but  never  to  alter  or  an 
nihilate.  Love  of  our  offspring,  is  not  more  according 
to  our  nature,  than  grief  for  the  loss  of  them.  Grief, 
therefore,  is  innocent  —  even  as  praiseworthy,  as  love. 
What  trace  of  human  wisdom  —  much  less  of  divine  — 
would  there  be  in  the  arrangement,  that  should  first 
bind  us  by  chains  of  affection  as  strong  as  adamant  to 
a  child,  or  a  parent,  or  a  friend,  and  then  treat  the  sor 
row  as  criminal  that  wept,  with  whatever  violence,  as  it 
saw  the  links  broken  and  scattered,  never  again  to  be 
joined  together  ? ' 

'  That  certainly  is  a  proof  that  some  just  ideas  are  to 
be  found  in  your  opinions,'  replied  my  friend.  *  By 
nothing  was  I  ever  more  irreconcilably  offended  in  the 
stoical  philosophy,  than  by  its  harsh  violence  towards 
nature  under  suffering.  To  be  treated  by  your  philos- 
oohy  with  rudeness  and  contempt,  because  you  yHd  to 


AURELIAN.  149 

emotions  which  are  as  natural,  and,  therefore,  in  my 
judgment,  as  innocent  as  any,  is,  as  if  one  were  struck 
with  violence  by  a  friend  or  a  parent,  to  whom  you  fled 
for  protection  or  comfort.  The  doctrines  of  all  the 
others  failed  in  the  same  way.  Even  the  Epicureans 
hold  it  a  weakness,  and  even  a  wrong,  to  grieve,  seeing 
the  injury  that  is  thereby  done  to  happiness.  Grief 
must  be  suppressed,  and  banished,  because  it  is  accom 
panied  by  pain.  That  too,  seemed  to  me  a  false 
sentiment  ;  because,  although  grief  is  indeed  in  some 
sort  painful,  yet  it  is  not  wholly  so,  but  is  attended  by  a 
kind  of  pleasure.  How  plain  it  is,  that  I  should  suffer 
greatly  more,  were  I  forcibly  restrained  by  a  foreign 
power,  or  my  own,  from  shedding  these  tears,  and  ut 
tering  these  sighs  for  Gallus,  than  I  do  now  while  I  am 
free  to  indulge  my  natural  feelings.  In  truth,  it  is  the 
only  pleasure  that  grief  brings  with  it  —  the  freedom  of 
indulging  it.' 

'  He,'  I  said,  as  Marcus  paused,  giving  way  afresh  to 
his  sorrow,  *  who  embraces  the  Christian  doctrine,  is 
never  blamed,  condemned,  or  ridiculed  by  it  for  the  in 
dulgence  of  the  emotions,  to  which,  the  loss  of  those 
whom  we  love,  gives  birth.  But  then,  at  the  same  time, 
he  will  probably  grieve  and  suffer  much  less  under 
such  circumstances  than  you  —  not,  however,  because 
he  is  forcibly  restrained,  but  "because  of  the  influence 
upon  his  mind  and  his  heart,  of  truths  and  opinions, 
which,  as  a  Christian,  he  entertains,  and  which,  without 
any  will  or  act  of  his  own,  work  within  him  and 
strengthen  and  console  him.  The  Christian  believing, 
so  firmly  as  he  does,  for  example,  in  a  God,  not  only  on 
13*  VOL.  i. 


150  A  a  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

grounds  ,f  reason  but  of  express  revelation,  and  tha 
this  God  is  a  parent,  exercising  a  providence  over  his 
creatures,  regardless  of  none,  loving  as  a  parent  all, 
who  has  created  mankind,  not  for  his  own  amusement 
or  honor,  but  that  life  and  happiness  might  be  diffused : 
they  who  believe  thus,  must  feel  very  differently  under 
adversity,  from  those  who,  like  yourself,  believe  nothing 
of  it  at  all,  and  from  those  who,  like  the  disciples  of  the 
Porch  and  the  Academy,  believe  but  an  inconsiderable 
part  of  it.  Suppose,  Marcus  and  Lucilia,  your  whole 
population  of  slaves  were,  instead  of  strangers  and 
slaves,  your  children,  toward  whom  you  experienced 
the  same  sentiments  of  deep  affection  that  you  did  to 
ward  Gallus,  how  would  you  not  consult  for  their  hap 
piness  ;  and  how  plain  it  is,  that  whatever  laws  you 
might  set  over  them,  they  would  be  laws  of  love,  the 
end  of  which,  however  they  might  not  always  recognize 
it,  would  be  their  happiness  —  happiness  through  their 
virtue.  This  may  represent,  with  sufficient  exactness, 
the  light  in  which  Christians  regard  the  Divinity,  and 
the  laws  of  life  under  which  they  find  themselves.  Ad 
mitting,  therefore,  their  faith  to  be  well  founded,  and 
how  manifest  is  it  that  they  will  necessarily  suffer  less 
under  adversity  than  you  ;  and  not  because  any  vio 
lence  is  done  to  their  nature,  but  because  of  the  benig 
nant  influences  of  such  truths.' 

*  What  you  say,'  observed  Lucilia,  '  affects  the  mind 
very  agreeably  ;  and  gives  a  pleasing  idea,  both  of  the 
wisdom  and  mercy  of  the  Christian  faith.  It  seems  at 
any  rate  to  be  suited  to  such  creatures  as  we  are.  What 
a  pity  that  it  is  so  difficult  to  discern  truth.' 


A UR ELI  AN.  1.51 

'  It  is  d.fficult,'  I  replied  ;  *  the  best  things  are  always 
to  :  but  it  is  not  impossible  ;  what  is  necessary  to  our 
happiness,  is  never  so.  A  mind  of  common  powers, 
well  disposed,  seeking  with  a  real  desire  to  find,  will 
rarely  retire  from  the  search  wholly  unsuccessful.  The 
great  essentials  to  our  daily  well-being,  and  the  right 
conduct  of  life,  the  Creator  has  supplied  through  our 
instincts.  Your  natural  religion,  of  which  you  have 
spoken,  you  find  sufficient  for  most  of  the  occurrences 
which  arise,  both  of  doing  and  bearing.  But  there  are 
other  emergencies  for  which  it  is  as  evidently  insuf 
ficient.  Now,  as  the  Creator  has  supplied  so  perfectly 
in  all  breasts  the  natural  religion,  which  is  so  essential, 
it  is  fair  to  say  and  believe,  that  He  would  not  make 
additional  truths,  almost  equally  essential  to  our  happi 
ness,  either  of  impossible  attainment,  or  encompassed  by 
difficulties  which  could  not,  with  a  little  diligence  and 
perseverance,  be  overcome.1 

1  It  would  seem  so,  certainly,'  said  Marcus  ;  '  but  it  is 
so  long  since  I  have  bestowed  any  thought  upon  philo 
sophical  inquiries,  that  to  me  the  labor  would  be  very 
great,  and  the  difficulties  extreme — for,  at  present,  there 
is  scarcely  so  much  as  a  mere  shred  or  particle  of  faith, 
to  which  as  a  nucleus  other  truths  may  attach  them 
selves.  In  truth,  I  never  look  even  to  possess  any 
clear  faith  in  a  God — it  seems  to  be  a  subject  wholly  be 
yond  the  scope  and  grasp  of  my  mind.  I  cannot  enter 
tain  the  idea  of  self-existence.  I  can  conceive  of  God 
neither  as  one,  nor  as  divided  into  parts.  Is  he  infinite 
and  everywhere,  himself  constituting  his  universe  ?  — 
then  he  is  scarcely  a  God  ;  or,  is  he  a  being  dwelling 
apart  from  his  works,  and  watching  their  obedience  to 


152  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  » 

t.ieir  imposed  laws?     In  neither  of  these   conceptions 
can  I  rest.' 

*  It  is  not  strange,'  I  replied  ;  '  nor  that,  refusing  to 
believe  in  the  fact  of  a  God  until  you  should  be  able  to 
comprehend  him  perfectly,  you  should  to  this  hour  be 
without  faith.  If  I  had  waited  before  believing,  until  I 
understood,  I  should  at  this  moment  be  as  faithless  as 
you,  or  as  I  was  before  I  received  Christianity.  Do  I 
comprehend  the  Deity?  Can  I  describe  the  mode  of  his 
being  ?  Can  I  tell  you  in  what  manner  he  sprang  into 
existence  ?  And  whether  he  is  necessarily  everywhere 
in  his  works,  and  as  it  were  constituting  them  ?  Or 
whether  he  has  power  to  contract  himself,  and  dwell 
apart  from  them,  their  omniscient  observer,  and  omnipo 
tent  Lord  ?  I  know  nothing  of  all  this  ;  the  religion 
which  I  receive,  teaches  nothing  of  all  this.  Christian 
ity  does  not  demonstrate  the  being  of  a  God,  it  simply 
proclaims  it  ;  hardly  so  much  as  that  indeed.  It  sup 
poses  it,  as  what  was  already  well  known  and  generally 
believed.  I  cannot  doubt  that  it  is  left  thus  standing  by 
itself,  untaught  and  unexplained,  only  because  the  sub 
ject  is  intrinsically  incomprehensible  by  us.  It  is  a 
great  fact  or  truth,  which  all  can  receive,  but  which  none 
can  explain  or  prove.  If  it  is  not  believed,  either  in 
stinctively,  or  through  the  recognition  of  it,  and  declar 
ation  of  it,  in  some  revelation,  it  cannot  be  believed  at 
all.  It  needs  the  mind  of  God  to  comprehend  God. 
The  mind  of  man  is  no  more  competent  to  reach  and 
grasp  the  theme  through  reason,  than  his  hands  are  to 
mould  a  sun.  All  the  reasonings,  imagination?,  guesses, 
of  self-styled  philosophers,  are  here  like  the  prattlings 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  1 53 

of  children.     They  make  you  smile,  but  they  do  no* 
instruct.' 

4 1  fear,'  said  Marcus,  *  I  shall  then  never  believe,  for 
I  can  believe  nothing  of  which  I  cannot  form  a  concep 
tion.' 

'  Surely,'  I  answered,  '  our  faith  is  not  bounded  by 
our  conceptions,  or  our  knowledge,  in  other  things.  We 
build  the  loftiest  palaces  and  temples  upon  foundations 
of  stone,  though  we  can  form  no  conception  whatever 
of  the  nature  of  a  stone.  So  I  think  we  may  found  a 
true  and  sufficient  religion  on  our  belief  in  the  fact  of  a 
God,  although  we  can  form  no  conception  whatever  of 
his  nature  and  the  mode  of  his  existence.' 

But  I  should  fatigue  you,  Fausta,  were  I  to  give  you 
more  of  our  conversation.  It  ran  on  equally  pleasant, 
I  believe,  to  all  of  us,  to  a  quite  late  hour  ;  in  which 
time,  almost  all  that  is  peculiar  to  the  faith  of  the  Chris 
tians  came  under  our  review.  It  was  more  than  mid 
night  when  we  rose  from  our  seats  to  retire  to  our 
chambers.  But  before  we  did  that,  a  common  feeling 
directed  our  steps  to  the  tomb  of  Gallus,  which  was  but 
a  few  paces  from  where  we  had  been  sitting.  There 
these  childless  parents  again  gave  way  to  their  grief 
and  was  I  stone,  that  I  should  not  weep  with  them  ? 

When  this  act  of  duty  and  piety  had  been  performed, 
we  sought  our  pillows.  As  for  me,  I  could  not  sleep 
for  thinking  of  my  friends  and  their  now  desolate  house 
For  even  to  me,  who  was  to  that  child  almost  a  stran 
ger,  and  had  been  so  little  used  to  his  presence,  this 
place  is  no  longer  the  same  :  all  its  brightness,  life,  and 
spirit  of  gladness,  are  gone.  Everything  seems  changed. 
From  every  place  and  scene  something  seems  to  have 


1 54  AURELIAN. 

been  subtracted  to  which  they  were  indebted  for  what 
ever  it  was  thaf  made  them  attractive.  If  this  is  so  to 
me,  what  must  it  be  to  Marcus  and  Lucilia  ?  It  is  not 
difficult  to  see  that  a  sorrow  has  settled  upon  their 
hearts,  which  no  length  of  time  can  heal.  I  suppose  if 
all  their  estates  had  been  swept  away  from  them  in  a 
night,  and  all  their  friends,  they  would  not  have  been  so 
overwhelmed  as  by  this  calamity  —  in  such  a  wonderful 
manner  were  they  each  woven  into  the  child,  and  all 
into  each  other,  as  one  being.  They  seem  no  longer  to 
me  like  the  same  persons.  Not  that  they  are  not  often 
calm,  and  in  a  manner  possessed  of  themselves  ;  but 
that  even  then,  when  they  are  most  themselves,  there 
has  a  dulness,  a  dreamy  absence  of  mind,  a  fixed  sad 
ness,  come  over  them  that  wholly  changes  them. 
Though  they  sit  and  converse  with  you,  their  true 
thoughts  seem  far  away.  They  are  kind  and  courteous 
as  ever,  to  the  common  eye,  but  I  can  see  that  all  the 
relish  of  life  and  of  intercourse  is  now  to  them  gone. 
All  is  flat  and  insipid.  The  friend  is  coldly  saluted  ; 
the  meal  left  untasted,  or  partaken  in  silence  and  soon 
abandoned  ;  the  affairs  of  the  household  left  to  others, 
to  any  who  will  take  charge  of  them.  They  tell  me 
that  this  will  always  be  so  ;  that  however  they  may 
seem  to  others,  they  must  ever  experience  a  sense  of 
loss  ;  not  any  less  than  they  would  if  a  limb  had  been 
shorn  away.  A  part  of  themselves,  and  of  the  life  of 
every  day  and  hour,  is  taken  from  them. 

How  strange  is  all  this,  even  in  tbs  light  of  Christian 
faith  !  How  inexplicable,  we  are  ready  to  say,  by  any 
reason  of  ours,  the  providence  of  God  in  taking  away 
the  human  being  in  the  first  blossoming  ;  before  the 


AURELIAN.  155 

fruit  has  even  shown  itself,  much  less  ripened  I  Yet  is 
not  immortality,  the  hope,  the  assurance  of  immortality, 
a  sufficient  solution?  To  me  it  is.  This  will  not  in 
deed  cure  our  sorrows  —  they  spring  from  somewhat 
wholly  independent  of  futurity,  of  either  the  hope,  or 
despair  t)f  it,  —  but  it  vindicates  the  ways  of  the  Omni 
potent,  and  justifies  them  to  our  reason  and  our  affec 
tions.  Will  Marcus  and  Lucilia  ever  rejoice  in  the 
consolations  which  flow  from  this  hope  ?  Alas  !  I 
fear  not.  They  seem  in  a  manner  to  be  incapable  of 
belief. 

In  the  morning  I  shall  start  for  Rome.     As  soon  as 
there,  you  shall  hear  from  me  again.     Farewell. 


While  Piso  was  absent  from  Rome  on  this  visit  to  his 
friend,  it  was  my  fortune  to  be  several  times  in  the  city 
upon  necessary  affairs  of  the  illustrious  Queen,  when  I 
was  both  at  the  palace  of  Aurelian  and  that  of  Piso.  It 
was  at  one  of  these  later  visits,  that  it  became  apparent 
to  me,  that  the  Emperor  seriously  meditated  the  imposing 
of  restrictions  of  some  kind  upon  the  Christians  ;  yet  no 
such  purpose  was  generally  apprehended  by  that  sect 
itself,  nor  by  the  people  at  large.  The  dark  and  disas 
trous  occurrences  on  the  day  of  the  dedication,  were  va 
riously  interpreted  by  the  people  ;  some  believing  them 
to  point  at  the  Christians,  some  at  the  meditated  expe 
dition  of  the  Emperor,  some  at  Aurelian  himself.  The 
popular  mind  was,  however,  greatly  inflamed  against 
the  Christians,  and  every  art  was  resorted  to  by  the 
priests  of  the  temples,  and  those  who  were  as  bigoted 
and  savage  as  themselves  among  the  people,  to  fan  to  a 


156 


A  TJ  R  E  L  I  A  N. 


devouring  flan,e  the  little  fire  that  began  to  be  kin 
dled.  The  voice  from  the  temple,  however  some  might 
with  Fronto  himself  doubt  whether  it  were  not  from 
Heaven,  was  for  the  most  part  ascribed  to  the  Chris 
tians,  although  they  could  give  no  explanation  of  the 
manner  in  which  it  had  been  produced.  But,  as  in  the 
case  of  Aurelian  himself,  this  was  forgotten  in  the 
horror  occasioned  by  the  more  dreadful  language  of  the 
omens,  which,  in  such  black  and  threatening  array,  no 
one  remembered  ever  to  have  been  witnessed  before. 
None  thought  or  talked  of  anything  else.  It  was  the 
universal  theme. 

This  may  be  seen  in  a  conversation  which  I  had  with 
a  rustic,  whom  I  overtook  as  I  rode  toward  Rome,  seat 
ed  on  his  mule,  burdened  on  either  side  and  behind  with 
the  multifarious  produce  of  his  farm.  The  fellow,  as  I 
drew  near  to  him,  seeming  of  a  less  churlish  disposition 
than  most  of  those  whom  one  meets  upon  the  road,  who 
will  scarcely  return  a  friendly  salute,  I  feared  not  to 
accost  him.  After  giving  him  the  customary  good 
wishes,  I  remarked  upon  the  excellence  of  the  vegeta 
bles  which  he  had  in  his  panniers. 

'  Yes,'  he  said,  '  these  lettuces  are  good,  but  not  what 
they  would  have  been  but  for  the  winds  we  have  had 
from  the  mountains.  It  has  sadly  nipped  them.  I  hear 
the  Queen  pines  away  just  as  my  plants  do.  I  live  at 
Norenturn.  I  know  you,  sir,  though  you  cannot  know 
me.  You  pass  by  my  door  on  your  way  to  the  city. 
My  children  often  call  me  from  my  work  to  look  up,  for 
there  goes  the  secretary  of  the  good  Queen  on  his  great 
horse.  There's  no  such  horse  as  that  on  the  road. 
Ha,  ha,  my  baskets  reach  but  to  your  knee  !  Well, 


AU  R  E  L  I  A  N.  157 

there  are  differences  in  animals  and  in  men  too.  So 
the  gods  will  it.  One  rides  upon  a  horse  with  golden 
bits,  another  upon  a  mule  with  none  at  all.  Still  I  say, 
let  the  gods  be  praised.' 

'  The  gods  themselves  could  hardly  help  such  differ 
ences,'  I  said,  '  if  they  made  one  man  of  more  natural 
strength,  or  more  natural  understanding  than  another. 
In  that  case  one  would  get  more  than  another.  And 
surely  you  would  not  have  men  all  run  in  one  mould  — 
all  five  feet  high,  all  weighing  so  much,  all  with  one 
face,  and  one  form,  one  heart,  and  one  head  !  The 
world  were  then  dull  enough.' 

'  You  say  true,'  he  replied  ;  *  that  is  very  good.  If 
we  were  all  alike,  there  would  be  no  such  thing  as  being 
rich  or  poor  —  no  such  thing  as  getting  or  losing.  I 
fear  it  would  be  dull  enough,  as  you  say.  But  I  did 
not  mean  to  complain,  sir.  I  believe  I  am  contented 
with  my  lot.  So  long  as  I  can  have  my  little  farm, 
with  my  garden  and  barns,  my  cattle  and  my  poultry, 
a  kind  neighbor  or  so,  and  my  priest  and  temple,  I  care 
for  nothing  more.' 

'  You  have  a  temple  then  at  Norentum  ? ' 

'  Yes,  to  Jupiter  Pluvius.  And  a  better  priest  has 
not  Rome  itself.  It  is  his  brother,  some  officer  of  the 
Emperor's,  I  take  these  vegetables  to.  I  hope  to  hear 
more  this  morning  of  what  I  heard  something  when  I 
was  last  at  market.  And  I  think  I  shall,  for, as  I  learn, 
the  city  is  a  good  deal  stirred  since  the  dedication  the 
other  day.'  '  I  believe  it  is,'  I  answered.  'But  of 
what  do  you  look  to  hear,  if  I  may  ask?  Is  there 
news  from  the  Eatt?' 

14  VOL.  I. 


1 5  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

'  0  no,  I  think  not  of  the  East  or  the  South.  It  was 
of  something  to  be  done  about  these  Christians.  Our 
temple,  you  must  know,  is  half  forsaken  and  more,  of 
late.  I  believe  that  half  the  people  of  Norentum,  if  the 
truth  were  known,  have  turned  "Christians  or  Jews. 
Unless  we  wake  up  a  little,  our  worship  cannot  be  sup 
ported,  and  our  religion  will  be  gone.  And  glad  am  I 
to  hear,  through  our  priest,  that  even  the  Emperor  is 
alarmed,  and  believes  something  must  be  done.  You 
know,  than  he,  there  is  not  a  more  devout  man  in  Rome. 
So  it  is  said.  And  one  thing  that  makes  me  think  so, 
is  this.  The  brother  of  our  priest,  where  I  am  going 
with  these  vegetables  —  here  is  poultry  too,  look  !  you 
never  saw  fatter,  I  warrant  you — told  him  that  he  knew 
it  for  certain,  that  the  Emperor  meant  to  make  short 
work  with  even  his  own  neice  —  you  know  who  I  mean 
— Aurelia,  who  has  long  been  suspected  to  be  a  Chris 
tian.  And  that's  right.  If  he  punishes  any,  he  ought 
not  to  spare  his  own.' 

4  That  I  suppose  would  be  right.  But  why  should 
he  punish  any  ?  You  need  not  be  alarmed  or  offend 
ed  ;  I  am  no  Christian.' 

'  The  gods  be  praised  therefor  !  I  do  not  pretend  to 
know  the  whole  reason  why.  But  that  seems  to  be  the 
only  way  of  saving  the  old  religion  ;  and  I  don't  know 
what  way  you  can  possibly  have  of  showing  that  a  re 
ligion  of  yesterday  is  true,  if  a  religion  of  a  thousand 
years  old  is  to  be  made  out  false.  If  religion  is  good 
for  anything  —  and  I  for  one  think  it  is  —  I  think  men 
ought  to  be  compelled  to  have  it  and  support  it,  just  as 
they  should  be  to  eat  wholesome  food,  rather  than  poi 
sonous  or  hurtful.  The  laws  won't  permit  us  to  carry 


AU  RE  LI  AN.  159 

tertain  things  to  market,  nor  others  in  a  certain  state. 
[f  we  do,  we  are  fined  or  imprisoned.  Treat  a  Chris 
tian  in  the  same  way,  say  I.  Let  them  just  go  tho 
roughly  to  work,  and  our  temples  will  soon  be  filled 
again.' 

'  But  these  Christians,'  I  observed,  *  seem  to  be  a 
harmless  people.' 

'  But  they  have  no  religion,  that  anybody  can  call 
such.  They  have  no  gods,  nor  altars,  nor  sacrifices  ; 
such  can  never  be  harmless.  To  be  sure,  as  to  sacri 
fices,  I  think  there  is  such  a  thing  as  doing  too  much. 
I  am  not  for  human  sacrifices.  Nor  do  I  see  the  need 
of  burning  up  a  dozen  fat  oxen  or  heifers,  as  was  done 
the  other  day  at  the  Temple  of  the  Sun.  We  in  No- 
rentum  burn  nothing  but  the  hoofs  and  some  of  the  en 
trails,  and  the  rest  goes  to  the  priest  for  his  support. 
As  I  take  it,  a  sacrifice  is  just  a  sign  of  readiness  to  do 
everything  and  lose  everything  for  the  gods.  We  are 
not  expected  to  throw  either  ourselves,  or  our  whole  sub 
stance  upon  the  altar  ;  making  the  sign  is  sufficient. 
But,  as  I  said,  these  Christians  have  no  altar  and  no 
sacrifice,  nor  image  of  god  or  goddess.  They  have,  at 
Norentum,  an  old  ruinous  building  —  once  a  market  — 
where  they  meet  for  worship  ;  but  those  who  have  been 
present  say,  that  nothing  is  to  be  seen  ;  and  nothing 
heard  but  prayers  —  to  what  god  no  one  knows  —  and 
exhortations  of  the  priests.  Some  say,  that  elsewhere 
they  have  what  they  call  an  altar,  and  adorn  their  walls 
with  pictures  and  statues.  However  all  this  may  be, 
ihere  seems  to  be  some  charm  about  them,  or  their  wor 
ship,  for  all  the  world  is  running  after  them.  I  long  for 
the  news  I  shall  get  from  Varenus  Hirtius.  If  these 


160  A.UR  E  LI  AN  . 

omens  have  not  set  the  Emperor  at  work  for  us,  nothing 
will.  Here  \ve  are  at  the  gates,  and  I  turn  toward  the 
Claudian  market.  May  the  day  go  happily  with  you.' 

So  we  parted  ;  and  I  bent  my  way  toward  the  gir- 
dens  of  Sallust. 

As  I  moved  slowly  along  through  the  streets,  my 
heart  was  filled  with  pity  for  this  people,  the  Chris 
tians  ;  threatened,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  with  a  renewal 
of  the  calamities  that  had  so  many  times  swept  over 
them  before.  They  had  ever  impressed  me  as  a  simple- 
minded,  virtuous  community,  of  notions  too  subtle  for 
the  world  ever  to  receive,  but  which,  upon  themselves, 
appeared  to  exert  a  power  altogether  beneficial.  Many 
of  this  faith  I  had  known  well,  and  they  were  persons 
to  excite  my  highest  admiration  for  the  characters 
which  they  bore.  Need  I  name  more  than  the  princess 
Julia,  and  her  husband,  the  excellent  Piso  ?  Others 
like  them,  what  wonder  if  inferior  !  had  also,  both  in 
Palmyra,  and  at  Tibur  and  Rome  —  for  they  were  to  be 
found  everywhere  —  drawn  largely  both  on  my  respect 
and  my  affections.  I  beheld  with  sorrow  the  signs  which 
now  seemed  to  portend  suffering  and  disaster.  And 
my  sympathies  were  the  more  moved  seeing  that  never 
before  had  there  been  upon  the  throne  a  man  who,  if 
he  were  once  entered  into  a  war  of  opposition  against 
them,  had  power  to  do  them  greater  harm,  or  could 
have  proved  a  more  stern  and  cruel  enemy.  Not  even 
Nero  or  Domitian  were  in  their  time  to  be  so  much 
dreaded.  For  if  Aurelian  should  once  league-  him  with 
the  state  against  them,  it  would  not  with  him  be  matter 
of  mere  cruel  sport,  but  of  conscience.  It  would  be  foi 
the  honor  of  the  gods,  the  protection  of  religion,  *he 


AU  R  E  LI  AN  .  161 

greatness  and  glory  of  the  empire,  that  he  would  assail 
and  punish  them  ;  and  the  same  fierce  and  bloody 
spirit  that  made  him  of  all  modern  conquerors  the 
bloodiest  and  fiercest,  it  was  plain  would  rule  him  in 
any  encounter  with  this  humble  and  defenceless  tribe. 
I  could  only  hope  that  I  was  deceived,  as  well  as  others, 
in  my  apprehensions,  or,  if  th?t  were  not  so,  pray  that 
the  gods  would  be  pleased  to  take  their  great  subject 
to  themselves. 

Full  of  such  reflections  and  emotions  I  arrived  at  the 
palace,  and  was  ushered  into  the  presence  of  Livia. 
There  was  with  her  the  melancholy  Aurelia  —  for  such 
she  always  seems  —  who  appeared  to  have  been  en 
gaged  in  earnest  talk  with  the  Empress,  if  one  might 
judge  by  tears  fast  falling  from  her  eyes.  The  only 
words  which  I  caught  as  I  entered  were  these  from 
Aurelia,  '  but,  dear  lady,  if  Mucapor  require  it  not,  why 
should  others  think  of  it  so  much  ?  Were  he  fixed, 
then  should  I  indeed  have  to  ask  strength  of  God  for 
the  trial  — '  then,  seeing  me,  and  only  receiving  my 
salutations,  she  withdrew. 

Livia,  after  first  inquiring  concerning  Zenobia  and 
Faustula,  returning  to  what  had  just  engaged  her,  said, 

'  I  wish,  good  Nicomachus,  that  I  had  your  powers 
of  speech,  of  which,  as  you  can  remember,  I  have  been 
witness  in  former  days  —  those  happy  days  in  Syria  — 
when  you  used,  so  successfully,  to  withstand  and  subdue 
my  giddy  or  headstrong  mind.  Here  have  I  been  for 
weary  hours  —  not  weary  neither,  for  their  aim  has,  I  am 
sure,  been  a  worthy  one  —  but,  here  have  I  been  persua 
ding,  with  all  the  reason  and  eloquence  I  could  bring  to 
14*  VOL.  i 


Ib2  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

Dear,  this  self-willed  girl  to  renounce  these  fantastic  no- 
.ions  she  has  imbibed  from  the  Christians,  and  their 
books,  were  it  only  for  the  sake  of  domestic  peace.  Au- 
relian  is  growing  daily  more  and  more  exasperated 
against  this  obscure  tribe,  and  drops,  oftener  than  I  love 
to  hear  them,  dark  hints  of  what  awaits  them,  not  ex 
cepting,  he  says,  any  of  whatever  rank  or  name.  Not 
that  I  suppose  that  either  he,  or  the  senate,  would  pro 
ceed  further  than  imprisonments,  banishment,  suppres 
sion  of  free  speech,  the  destruction  of  books  and  church 
es  ;  so  much  indeed  I  understand  from  him.  But  even 
thus  far,  and  we  might  lose  Aurelia  —  a  thing  not  to  be 
thought  of  for  a  moment.  He  has  talked  with  her  him 
self,  reasoned  with  her,  threatened  her  ;  but  in  vain. 
Now  he  has  imposed  the  same  task  upon  me  —  it  is 
equally  in  vain.  I  know  not  what  to  do.' 

*  Because,'  I  replied,   '  nothing  can  be  done.     Where 
it  is  possible  to  see,  you  have  eyes  within  you    that  can 
penetrate  the  thickest   darkness  as    well   as  any.     But 
here  you  fail  ;    but  only  where  none  could  succeed.     A 
sincere  honest  mind,  princess,  is  not  to  be    changed  ei 
ther  by  persuasion  or  force.     Its  belief  is  not  subject  to 
the  will.     Aurelia,  if  I  have  heard  aright,  is  a  Christian 
from  conviction.     Evidence  made   her   a    Christian  — 
stronger  evidence  on  the   side  of  her  former  faith  can 
alone  unmake  her.' 

*  I  cannot  reason  with  her  to  that  extent,  Nicomachus,' 
replied  the  Empress.     *  I  know  not  the  grounds  of  the 
common  faith,  any  more 'than  those  of  Christianity.     I 
only  know  that   I   wish    Aurelia   was  not  a  Christian. 
Will  you,  Nicomachus,  reason  with  her  ?     I  remember 
your  logic  of  old.' 


A  U  KELT  AN.  163 

'  Alas,  princess,  I  can  engage  in  no  such  task  ! 
Where  I  have  no  faith  myself,  I  should  in  vain  attempt 
to  plant  it  in  others.  How,  either,  can  I  desire  that  any 
mind  should  remain  an  hour  longer  oppressed  by  the 
childish  and  abominable  superstitions  which  prevail  in 
Rome  ?  I  cannot  but  congratulate  the  excellent  Au- 
relia,  so  far  as  the  question  of  truth  is  concerned,  that 
in  the  place  of  the  infinite  stupidities  of  the  common 
religion,  she  has  received  the,  at  least,  pure  and  reason 
able  doctrines  of  the  Christians.  You  cannot  surely, 
princess,  desire  her  re-conversion  ? ' 

'  Only  for  her  own  sake,  for  the  sake  of  her  safety, 
comfort,  happiness.' 

'  But  in  her  judgment  these  are  best  and  only  secured 
where  she  now  is.  How  thinks  Mucapor  ? ' 

*  As  I  believe,'  answered  Livia,  *  he  cares  not  in  the 
matter,  save  for  her  happiness.     He  will  not  wish  that 
she  should  have  any   faith  except  such   as  she  herself 
wishes.     I  have  urged  him  to  use  his  power  to  constrain 
her,  but  he  loves  liberty  himself  too  dearly,  he  says,  to 
put  force  upon  another.' 

*  That    is    right   and   noble,'  I  said  ;    *  it   is   what  I 
should  have  looked  for  from  Mucapor.' 

'  In  good  sooth,  Nicomachus,  I  believe  you  still  take 
me  but  for  what  I  was  in  Palmyra.  Who  am  I  ? ' 

*  From  a  princess  you  have  become  an  Empress,  Em 
press  of  Rome,  that  I  fully    understand,  and   I   trust 
never  to  be  wanting  in  the  demeanor  that  best   becomes 
a  subject  ;    but   you   are    still    Livia,  the    daughter  of 
Zenobia,   and   to  her  I  feel  I  can  never  fear  to  speak 
with  sincerity.' 

'  How   omnipotent,  Nicomachus,   are   simplicity  and 


164  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  K  . 

truth  !  They  subdue  me  when  I  most  would  not.  They 
have  conquered  me  in  Aurelia  and  now  in  you.  Well; 
well,  Aurelia  then  must  take  the  full  weight  of  her 
uncle's  wrath,  which  is  not  light.' 

At  this  moment  Aurelian  himself  entered,  accompan 
ied  by  Fronto.  Livia,  at  the  same  time,  arose  and 
withdrew,  not  caring,  I  thought,  to  meet  the  eyes  of  that 
basilisk,  who,  with  the  cunning  of  a  priest,  she  saw  to 
be  usurping  a  power  over  Aurelian  which  belonged  of 
right  to  her.  I  was  about  also  to  withdraw,  but  the 
Emperor  constraining  me,  as  he  often  does,  I  remained, 
although  holding  the  priest  in  still  greater  abhorrence, 
1  believe,  than  Livia  herself. 

'  While  you  have  been  absent  from  the  city,  Fronto,' 
said  Aurelian,  '  I  have  revolved  the  subjects  upon 
which  we  last  conversed,  and  no  longer  doubt  where  lie, 
for  me,  both  duty,  and  the  truest  glory.  The  judgment 
of  the  colleges,  lately  rendered,  agrees  both  with  yours 
and  mine.  So  that  the  very  finger  of  the  god  we  wor 
ship  points  the  way.' 

'  I  am  glad,'  replied  Fronto,  '  for  myself,  for  you,  for 
Rome,  and  for  the  world,  that  truth  possesses  and  is  to 
sway  you.  It  will  be  a  great  day  for  Rome,  greater 
than  when  your  triumphal  array  swept  through  the 
streets  with  the  world  at  your  chariot-wheels,  when  the 
enemy  that  had  so  long  waged  successful  war  within 
the  very  gates,  shall  lie  dead  as  the  multitudes  of 
Palmyra.' 

*  It  will,  Fronto.  But  first  I  have  this  to  say,  and,  by 
the  gods,  I  believe  it  true,  that  it  is  the  corruptions  of 
our  own  religion  and  its  ministers,  that  is  the  offence 
that  smells  to  heaven,  quite  as  much  as  the  presump- 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  165 

fuous  novelties  of  this  of  Judea.  I  perceive  you  neither 
assent  to  this  nor  like  it.  But  it  is  true,  I  am  persua 
ded,  as  the  gods  themselves.  I  have  long  thought  so  ; 
and,  while  with  one  hand,  I  aim  at  the  Gallilean  athe 
ism,  with  the  other,  I  shall  aim  at  those  who  dishonor, 
by  their  vices  and  hypocrisies,  the  religion  they  profess 
to  serve.' 

Pronto  was  evidently  disturbed.  His  face  grew  pale 
as  the  frown  gathered  and  darkened  on  the  brow  of  Au- 
relian.  He  answered  not,  and  Aurelian  went  on. 

'  Hellenism,  Pronto,  is  disgraced,  and  its  very  life 
threatened  by  the  vices  of  her  chief  ministers.  The 
gods  forgive  me  !  in  that,  while  I  have  purged  my  legions 
of  drunkards  and  adulterers,  I  have  left  them  in  the 
temples.  Truly  did  you  say,  I  have  had  but  one  thought 
in  my  mind,  I  have  looked  but  to  one  quarter  of  the 
heavens.  My  eyes  are  now  unsealed,  and  I  see  both 
ways,  and  every  way.  How  can  we  look  for  the  favor 
of  the  gods,  while  their  houses  of  worship,  I  speak  it, 
Pronto,  with  sorrow  and  indignation,  but  with  the  know 
ledge  too  of  the  truth  of  what  I  say,  are  houses  of  ap 
pointment  while  the  very  inner  sanctuaries,  and  the 
altars  themselves,  are  little  better  than  the  common 
stews,  while  the  priests  are  the  great  fathers  of  iniquity, 
corrupters  of  innocence,  the  seducers  of  youth,  examples 
themselves,  beyond  the  fear  of  rivalry,  of  all  the  vice 
they  teach  !  At  their  tables,  too,  who  so  swollen  wi*h 
meats  and  drink  as  the  priests  ?  Who,  but  they,  are  a 
by-word,  throughout  the  city,  for  all  that  is  vilest  ? 
What  word  but  priest,  stands,  with  all,  as  an  abbrevia 
tion  and  epitome,  of  whatever  pollutes,  and  defiles  the 
name  of  man  ?  Porphyrius  says  *  that  since  Jesus  ha- 


166  AURELIAN. 

been  worshipped  in  Rome  no  one  has  found  by  experi 
ence  the  public  assistance  of  the  gods.'  I  believe  it  ; 
and  Rome  will  never  again  experience  it  till  this  black 
atheism  is  rooted  out.  But  it  is  as  true,  I  doubt  not, 
that  since  their  ministers  have  become  ministers  of 
demons,  and,  from  teachers  of  morals,  have  turned  in- 
structers  in  vice  —  for  this  reason  too,  as  well  as  for  the 
other,  the  justly  offended  deities  of  Rome  have  hid  them 
selves  from  their  impious  worshippers.  Here  then, 
Pronto,  is  a  double  labor  to  be  undergone,  a  double  duty 
to  be  done,  not  less  than  some  or  all  of  the  labors  of 
Hercules.  We  are  set  for  this  work,  and,  not  till  I 
have  begun  it  —  if  not  finished  —  will  I  so  much  as 
dream  of  Persia.  What  say  you  ?  ' 

Fronto   looked    like    one  who  had  kindled  a  larger 
flame  than  he  intended,  or  knew  well  how  to  manage. 

*  The  faults  of  which  you  speak,  great   Emperor,  it 
can  be  denied  by  none,  are   found   in    Rome,   and  can 
never  be  other  than  displeasing  to  the  gods.     But  then, 
I  would  ask, when  was  it  ever  otherwise?   In  the  earlier 
ages  of  the  republic,  I  grant,  there  was  a  virtue  in   the 
people  which  we  see  not  now.     But  that  grew  not  out 
of  the   purer   administration  of  religion,   but  was  the 
product  of  the  times  in  part  —  times,  in  comparison  with 
these,  of  a  primeval  simplicity.     To  live  well,  was  ea 
sier  then.     Where  no  temptation  is,  virtue  is   easy,  is 
necessary.     But  then  it  ceases  to   be  virtue.     It   is  a 
quality,  not  an  acquisition —  a  gift  of  the  gods,  an  ac 
cident,  rather  than  man's  meritorious  work.' 

*  That  is  very  true  —  well.' 

*  There   may  be   as  much  real  virtue  now,  as  then. 
May  it  not  be  so  ?  * 


AURELIAN.  167 

Perhaps  —  it  may.     What  then  ?  ' 

1  Oin  complaints  of  the  present,  should  be  softe'ned. 
But,  what  chiefly  I  would  urge  is  this,  that  since  those 
ages  of  early  virtue  —  after  all,  perhaps,  like  all  else  at 
the  same  period,  partly  fabulous  —  Rome  has  been  but 
what  it  is,  adorned  by  virtues  that  have  claimed  the  ad 
miration  of  the  world,  and  polluted  by  vices  that  have 
drawn  upon  her  the  reprobation  of  the  good,  yet,  which 
are  but  such  as  the  world  shows  its  surface  over,  from 
the  farthest  India,  to  the  bleak  wastes  of  Britain.  It  is, 
Aurelian,  a  thing  neither  strange  nor  new  that  vices 
thrive  in  Rome.  And,  long  since,  have  there  been 
those,  like  Nerva  and  the  good  Severus,  and  the  late 
censor  Valerian,  who  have  aimed  at  their  correction. 
These,  and  others  who,  before  and  since,  have  wrought 
in  the  same  work,  have  done  well  for  the  empire.  Their 
aim  has  been  a  high  one,  and  the  favor  of  the  gods  has 
been  theirs.  Aurelian  may  do  more  and  better  in  the 
same  work,  seeing  his  power  is  greater  and  his  piety 
more  zealous.' 

*  These  are  admitted  truths,  Fronto,  save  the  last ; 
but  whither  do  they  tend  ? ' 

1  To  this.  Because,  Aurelian,  vice  has  been  in 
Rome  ;  because  even  the  priesthood  has  been  corrupt, 
and  the  temples  themselves  the  sties  you  say  they  now 
are  —  for  this,  have  the  gods  ever  withdrawn  their  pro 
tection  ?  Has  Rome  ever  been  the  less  prosperous  ? 
What  is  more,  can  we  conceive  that  they  who  made  us 
of  their  own  fiery  mould,  so  prone  to  violate  the  bounds 
of  moderation,  would,  for  yielding  to  such  instincts,  in 
terpose  in  wrath,  as  if  that  had  happened  which  was* 
not  foreseen,  and  against  which,  they  had  made  sure 


168  A  TI  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

provision  ?  Are  the  heavens  to  blaze  with  the  fires  of 
the  last  day,  thunders  to  roll  as  if  earth  were  shaken  to 
her  centre,  the  entrails  of  dumb  beasts  to  utter  forth  ter 
rific  prophecy  of  great  and  impending  wo,  because, 
forsooth,  the  people  of  Rome  are  by  no  means  patterns  of 
purity  —  because,  perchance,  within  the  temples  them 
selves,  an  immorality  may  have  been  purposed,  or  per 
petrated —  because,  even  the  priests  themselves  have 
no*  been,  or  are  not,  white  and  spotless  as  their  robes  ? ' 
«  There  seems  some  reason  in  what  you  say.' 
4  But,  great  Emperor,  take  me  not  as  if  I  would  make 
myself  the  shield  of  vice,  to  hide  it  from  the  blow  that 
would  extirpate  or  cure  it.  I  see,  and  bewail,  the  cor 
ruptions  of  the  age  ;  but,  as  they  seem  not  fouler  than 
those  of  ages  which  are  past,  especially  than  those  of 
Nero  and  of  Commodus,  I  cannot  think  that  it  is  against 
these  the  gods  have  armed  themselves,  but,  Aurelian, 
against  an  evil  which  has  been  long  growing,  and  often 
assailed  and  checked,  but  which  has  now  got  to  such 
giant  size  and  strength,  that  except  it  be  absolutely 
hewn  down,  and  the  least  roots  torn  up  and  burned,  both 
the  altars  of  our  gods,  and  their  capital,  called  Eternal, 
and  the  empire  itself,  now  holding  the  world  in  its  wide 
spread,  peace-giving  arms,  are  vanished,  and  anarchy, 
impiety,  atheism,  and  the  rank  vices,  which  in  such 
times  would  be  engendered,  will  then  reign  omnipotent, 
and  fill  the  very  compass  of  the  earth,  Christ  being  the 
universal  king !  It  is  against  this  the  heavens  have  ar 
rayed  their  power  ;  and  to  arouse  an  ungrateful,  thought 
less,  impious  people,  with  their  sleeping  king,  that  the> 
have  spoken  in  thunder.' 

<  Fronto,  I  almost  believe  you  right.* 


A  II  R  E  L  I  A  N  169 

'Had  we,  Aurelian,  but  the  eyes  of  moles,  when  the 
purposes  of  the  gods  are  to  be  deciphered  in  the  charac 
ter  of  events,  we  should  long  since  have  seen  that  the 
series  of  disasters  which  have  befallen  the  empire  since 
the  Gallilean  atheism  has  taken  root  here,  have  pointed 
but  to  that  —  that  they  have  been  a  chastisement  of 
our  supineness  and  sloth.  When  did  Rome,  almighty 
Rome,  ever  before  "tremble  at  the  name  of  barbarian,  or 
fly  before  their  arms  ?  While  now,  is  it  not  much  that 
we  are  able  to  keep  them  from  the  very  walls  of  the 
Capital  ?  They  now  swarm  the  German  forests  in  mul 
titudes,  which  no  man  can  count  ;  their  hoarse  mur 
murs  can  be  heard  even  here,  ready,  soon  as  the  reins 
of  empire  shall  fall  into  the  hands  of  another  Gallienus, 
to  pour  themselves  upon  the  plains  of  Italy,  changing 
our  fertile  lands  and  gorgeous  cities  into  another  Da- 
cia.  These  things  were  not  so  once  ;  and  what  cause 
there  is  in  Rome,  so  deep,  and  high,  and  broad,  to  re 
solve  for  us  the  reason  of  this  averted  face  of  heaven, 
save  that  of  which  I  speak,  I  cannot  guess.' 

'  Nor  I,'  said  Aurelian  ;  « I  confess  it.  It  must  be  so 
My  work  is  not  three,  nor  two ;  but  one.  I  have  brought 
peace  to  the  empire  in  all  its  borders.  My  legions  all 
rest  upon  their  arms.  Not  a  sword,  but  is  in  its  sheath 
—  there,  for  the  present,  let  it  be  glued  fast.  The  sea 
son,  so  propitious  for  the  great  work  of  bringing  again 
the  empire  into  peace  and  harmony  with  the  angry  gods, 
seems  to  have  been  provided  by  themselves.  How  think 
you,  Nicomachus  ?' — turning  suddenly  to  me,  as  if  now, 
for  the  first  time,  aware  that  I  was  standing  at  his  side. 

I  answered,  '  that  I  was  slow  to  receive  the  judgment 
15        VOL.  i. 


170  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N. 

of  Fronto  or  of  himself  in  that  matter.  That  I  could 
not  believe  that  the  gods,  who  should  be  examples  of 
/he  virtues  to  mankind,  would  ever  ordain  such  suffer 
ings  for  their  creatures  as  must  ensue,  were  the  former 
violences  to  be  renewed  against  the  Christians.  So  far 
from  thinking  them  a  nuisance  in  the  state,  I  consider 
ed  them  a  benefit.' 

*  The  Greek  too,'  said  Fronto,  breaking  in,   '  is   then 
a  Christian.' 

'  1  am  not  a  Christian,  priest,  nor,  as  I  think,  shall 
ever  be  one  ;  but,  far  sooner  would  I  be  one,  than  take 
my  faith  from  thee,  which,  however  it  might  guide  me 
well  through  the  wine  vaults  of  the  temple,  or  to  the 
best  stalls  of  the  market,  or  to  the  selectest  retreats  of 
the  suburra,  would  scarce  show  the  way  to  heaven.  I 
affront  but  the  corruptions  of  religion,  Aurelian.  Sin 
cerity  I  honor  everywhere.  Hypocrisy  nowhere.'  I 
thought  Fronto  would  have  torn  me  with  his  teeth  and 
nails.  His  white  face  grew  whiter,  but  he  stood  still. 

'  Say  on,'  said  the  Emperor,  '  though  your  bluntness 
be  more  even  than  Roman.' 

*  I  think,'  I  continued,  '  the  Christians  a  benefit  to  the 
state,  for  this    reason  ;  not  that   their  religion  is  what 
they  pretend,  a  heaven-descended  one,   but  that,  by  its 
greater  strictness,    it  serves  to  rebuke  the  common  faith 
and  those  who  hold  it,  and  infuse  into   it   something  of 
its  own  spirit.     All  new  systems,  as  I   take   it,  in  their 
first  beginning  are  strict  and  severe.     It  is  thus  by  this 
quality  they  supersede   older  and  degenerate  ones  ;  not 
because  they  are    truer,    but   because    thoy   are   purer. 
There  is  a  prejudice  among  men,  that  the  gods,  whoev 
er  they  may  be,  and  whatever  they  may  be,  love  virtue 


AURELIAN.  171 

in  men,  and  for  that  accept  them.  When,  therefore,  a 
religion  fails  to  recommend  and  enforce  virtue,  it  fails 
to  meet  the  judgment  of  men  concerning  the  true  char 
acter  and  office  of  a  religion,  and  so  with  the  exception 
of  such  beasts,  and  such  there  always  are,  who  esteem 
a  faith  in  proportion  to  its  corruptions,  they  look  with 
favor  upon  any  new  one  which  promises  to  be  what 
they  want.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  this  religion  from 
Judea  has  made  its  way  so  far  and  so  soon.  But,  it 
will,  by  and  by,  degenerate  from  its  high  estate,  just  as 
others  have  done,  and  be  succeeded  by  another  that 
shall  raise  still  higher  expectations.  In  the  meantime, 
it  serves  the  state  well,  both  by  the  virtue  which  it  en 
joins  upon  its  own  subjects,  and  the  influence  it  exerts, 
by  indirection,  upon  those  of  the  prevalent  faiths,  and 
upon  the  general  manners  and  morals.1 

*  What  you  say,'  observed  Aurelian   musingly,  '  has 
some    show   of  sense.     So  much,  at  least,  may  be  said 
for  this  religion.' 

'  Yet  a  lie,'  said  Fronto,  '  can  be  none  the  less  hateful 
to  the  gods,  because  it  sometime  plays  the  part  of  truth. 
It  is  a  lie  still.' 

*  Hold,'  said  Aurelian,  « let  us  hear  the  Greek.     What 
else  r 

1 1  little  thought,'  I  replied,  '  as  I  rode  toward  the  city 
this  morning,  that  I  should  at  this  hour  be  standing  in 
the  presence  of  the  Emperor  of  Rome,  a  defender  of  the 
Christians.  I  am  in  no  manner  whatever  fitted  for  the 
task.  My  knowledge  is  nothing  ;  my  opinions,  there 
fore,  worth  but  little,  grounded  as  they  are  upon  the 
loose  reports  which  reach  my  ear  concerning  the  char 
acter  and  doctrines  of  this  sect,  or  upon  what  little  ob 


172 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 


serration  I  have  made  upon  those  whom  I  have  known 
of  that  persuasion.  Still,  I  honor  and  esteem  them,  and 
such  aid  as  I  can  bring  them  in  their  straits,  shall  be 
very  gladly  theirs.  I  will,  however,  add  one  thing  more 
to  what  I  have  said  in  answer  to  Pronto,  who  represents 
the  gods  as  more  concerned  to  destroy  the  Christians 
than  to  reform  the  common  religion  and  the  public 
morals.  I  cannot  think  that.  Am  I  to  believe  that  the 
gods,  the  supreme  directors  of  human  affairs,  whose  aim 
must  be  man's  highest  well-being,  regard  with  more  ab 
horrence  an  error  than  a  vice  ?  —  an  error  too  that  acts 
more  beneficently  than  most  truth,  and  is  the  very  seed 
of  the  purest  virtues  ?  I  can  by  no  means  believe  it. 
So  that  if  I  were  interpreter  of  the  late  omens,  I  should 
rather  see  them  pointed  at  the  vices  which  prevail  ;  at 
the  corruptions  of  the  public  morals,  which  are  fouler 
than  aught  I  had  so  much  as  dreamed  of  before  I  was 
myself  a  witness  of  them,  and  may  well  be  supposed  to 
startle  the  gods  from  their  rest,  and  draw  down  their 
hottest  thunderbolts.  But  I  will  not  say  more,  when 
there  must  be  so  many  able  to  do  so  much  better  in  be 
half  of  what  I  must  still  believe  to  be  a  good  cause. 
Let  me  entreat  the  Emperor,  before  he  condemns,  to 
hear.  There  are  those  in  Rome,  of  warm  hearts, 
sound  heads,  and  honest  souls,  from  whom,  if  from  any 
on  earth,  truth  may  be  heard,  and  who  will  set  in  its 
just  light  a  doctrine  too  excellent  to  suffer,  as  it  must,  in 
my  hands.' 

1  They  shall  be  heard,  Nicomachus.  Not  even  a  Jew 
or  a  Christian  shall  suffer  without  that  grace  ;  though  I 
see  not  how  it  can  avail.' 

'  If  it  should  not  avail  to  plant  in  your  mind  so  good 


A  UR  ELI  AN.  173 

an  opinion  of  their  way  as  exists  in  mine,'  I  resumed, 
1  it  might  yet  to  soften  it,  and  dispose  it  to  a  more  lenient 
conduct  ;  and  so  many  are  the  miseries  of  life  in  the 
natural  order  of  events,  that  the  humane  heart  must 
desire  to  diminish,  not  increase  them.  Has  Aurelian 
ever  heard  the  name  of  Probus  the  Christian  ? ' 

The  Emperor  turned  toward  Pronto  with  a  look  of 
inquiry. 

'  Yes,'  said  the  priest,  *  you  have  heard  his  name. 
But  that  of  Felix,  the  bishop  of  the  Christians,  as  he  is 
called,  is  more  familiar  to  you.' 

'  Felix,  Felix,  that  is  the  name  I  have  heard  most, 
but  Probus  too,  if  I  err  not.' 

*  He  has  been  named  to  you,  I  am  certain,'  added 
Fronto.  '  He  is  the  real  head  of  the  Nazarenes,  —  the 
bishop,  but  a  painted  one.' 

'  Probus  is  he  who  turned  young  Piso's  head.  Is  it 
not  so  ? ' 

'  The  very  same  ;  and  beside  his,  the  lady  Julia's.' 

'  No,  that  was  by  another,  one  Paul  of  Antioch,  also 
a  bishop  and  a  fast  friend  of  the  Queen.  The  Chris 
tians  themselves  have  of  late  set  upon  him,  as  they 
were  so  many  blood-hounds,  being  bent  upon  expelling 
him  from  Antioch.  It  is  not  long  since,  in  accordance 
with  the  decree  of  some  assembled  bishops  there,  I  is 
sued  a  rescript  dislodging  him  from  his  post,  and  plant 
ing  in  his  place  one  Domnus.  If  our  purposes  prosper, 
the  ejected  and  dishonored  priest  may  find  himself  at 
least  safer  if  humbler.  Probus,  —  I  shall  remember 
him.  The  name  leads  my  thoughts  to  Thrace,  where 
our  greater  Probus  waits  for  me.' 
15*  VOL.  i 


174  AURELIAN. 

'  From  Probus  the  Christian,'  I  said,  '  you  will  re 
ceive,'  whenever  you  shall  admit  him  to  your  presence, 
a  true  account  of  the  nature  of  the  Christians'  faith  and 
of  the  actual  condition  of  their  community  —  all  which, 
can  be  had  only  from  a  member  of  it.' 

But  little  more  was  said,  when  I  departed,  and  tooK 
my  way  again  towards  Tibur. 

It  seemed  to  me,  from  the  manner  of  the  Emperor 
more  than  from  what  he  said,  that  he  was  settled 
and  bound  up  to  the  bad  work  of  an  assault  upon  the 
Christians.  To  what  extent  it  was  in  his  mind  to  go,  I 
could  not  judge  ;  for  his  language  was  ambiguous,  and 
sometimes  contradictory.  But  that  the  darkest  designs 
were  harbored  by  him,  over  which  he  was  brooding 
with  a  mind  naturally  superstitious,  but  now  almost  in 
a  state  of  exasperation,  from  the  late  events,  was  most 
evident. 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  175 


LETTER    VI. 

FROM     P1SO     TO     FAUSTA. 

Having  confined  myself,  in  my  last  letter,  to  the  af 
fairs  of  Marcus  and  Lucilia,  I  now,  Fausta,  turn  to 
those  whiuh  concern  us  and  Rome. 

I  found,  on  my  return  to  the  city,  that  the  general 
anxiety  concerning  the  designs  of  Aurelian  had  greatly 
increased.  Many  rumors  were  current  of  dark  sayings 
of  his,  which,  whether  founded  in  truth  or  not,  contrib 
uted  to  alarm  even  the  most  hopeful,  and  raise  serious  ap 
prehensions  for  the  fate  of  this  much  and  long-suffering 
religion.  Julia  herself  partakes  —  1  cannot  say  of  the 
alarm  —  but  of  the  anxiety.  She  has  less  confidence 
than  I  have  in  the  humanity  of  the  Emperor.  In  the 
honours  heaped  upon  Zenobia,  and  the  favors  shown  her 
self  and  Vabalathus,  she  sees,  not  so  much  the  outpour 
ing  of  benevolent  feeling,  as  a  rather  ostentatious  dis 
play  of  imperial  generosity,  and,  what  is  called,  Roman 
magnanimity.  For  the  true  character  of  the  man  she 
looks  into  the  graves  of  Palmyra,  upon  her  smoking 
ruins,  and  upon  the  blood,  yet  hardly  dry,  that  stains 
the  pavements  of  the  Crelian.  Julia  may  be  right, 
though  I  am  unwilling  to  believe  it.  Her  judgment  is 
entitled  to  the  more  weight  in  this  severe  decision,  that  it 
is  ever  inclined  to  the  side  of  a  too  favorable  opinion  of 
character  and  motive.  You  know  her  nature  too  well, 
to  believe  her  capable  of  exaggerating  the  faults  of  even 


176  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

the  humblest.  Yet,  though  such  are  her  apprehensians, 
she  manifests  the  same  calm  and  even  carriage  as  on  the 
approach  of  more  serious  troubles  in  Palmyra.  She  is 
full  of  deepest  interest  in  the  affairs  of  the  Christians, 
arid  by  many  families  of  the  poorer  sort  is  resorted  to 
continually  for  aid,  for  counsel,  or  sympathy.  Not  one 
in  the  whole  community  is  a  more  frequent  and  devout 
attendant  upon  the  services  of  the  church  ;  and,  I  need 
not  add,  that  I  am  her  constant  companion.  The  per 
formance  of  this  duty  gives  a  value  to  life  in  Rome  such 
as  it  never  had  before.  Every  seventh  day,  as  with  the 
Jews,  only  upon  a  different  day  of  the  week,  do  the 
Christians  assemble  for  the  purposes  of  religious  wor 
ship.  And,  I  can  assure  you,  it  is  with  no  trifling  acces 
sion  of  strength  for  patient  doing  and  patient  bearing, 
that  we  return  to  our  everyday  affairs,  after  having  lis 
tened  to  the  prayers,  the  reasonings,  or  exhortations  of 
Probus. 

So  great  is  the  difference  in  my  feelings  and  opinions 
from  what  they  were  before  I  left  Rome  for  Palmyra, 
that  it  is  with  difficulty  I  persuade  myself  that  I  am  the 
same  person.  Between  Piso  the  Pyrronist  and  Piso 
the  Christian,  the  distance  seems  immeasurable  —  yet  in 
how  short  a  time  has  it  been  past.  I  cannot  say  that  I 
did  not  enjoy  existence  and  value  it  in  my  former  state, 
but  I  can  say  that  my  enjoyment  of  it  is  infinitely 
heightened  as  a  Christian,  and  the  rate  at  which  I  value 
it  infinitely  raised.  Born  and  nurtured  as  I  was,  with 
Portia  for  my  mother,  a  palace  for  my  home,  Rome  for 
my  country  and  capital,  offering  all  the  luxuries  of  the 
earth,  and  affording  all  the  means  I  could  desire  for  car 
rying  on  researches  in  study  of  every  kind,  surrounded 


AURELIAN.  177 

by  friends  of  the  noblest  and  best  families  in  the  city, — 
I  could  not  but  enjoy  life  in  some  very  important  sense. 
While  mere  youth  lasted,  and  rny  thoughts  never  wan 
dered  beyond  the  glittering  forms  of  things,  no  one  could 
be  happier  or  more  contented.  All  was  fair  and  beauti 
ful  around  me —  what  could  I  ask  for  more?  I  was 
satisfied  and  filled.  But,  by  and  by,  my  dream  of  life  was 
disturbed  —  my  sleep  broken.  Natural  questions  began 
to  propose  themselves  for  my  solution,  such,  I  suppose, 
as,  sooner  or  later,  spring  up  in  every  bosom.  I  began 
to  speculate  about  myself — about  the  very  self  that  had 
been  so  long,  so  busy,  about  everything  else  beside  itself. 
I  wished  to  know  something  of  myself —  of  my  origin, 
my  nature,  my  present  condition,  my  ultimate  fate.  It 
seemed  to  me  I  was  too  rare  and  curious  a  piece  of  work 
to  go  to  ruin,  final  and  inevitable  —  perhaps  to-morrow— 
at  all  events  in  a  very  few  years.  Of  futurity  I  had 
heard — and  of  Elysium — just  as  I  had  heard  of  Jupiter, 
greatest  and  best,  but,  with  my  earliest  youth,  these  things 
had  faded  from  my  mind,  or  had  already  taken  upon 
themselves  the  character  of  fable.  My  Virgil,  in  which 
I  early  received  my  lessons  of  language,  at  once  divested 
them  of  all  their  air  of  reality,  and  left  them  naked  fic 
tion.  The  other  poets,  Livy  helping  them,  continued 
the  same  work  and  completed  it.  But,  bent  with  most 
serious  and  earnest  desires  toward  truth  on  what  seemed 
to  me  the  greatest  theme,  I  could  not  remain  where  I 
was,  and  turned  with  highest  expectations  to  the  philos 
ophers.  I  not  only  read,  but  I  studied  and  pondered 
them  with  diligence,  and  with  as  sincere  a  desire  of 
arriving  at  truth  as  ever  scholar  sat  at  the  feet  of  his  in- 
•tructer.  The  result  was  anything  but  satisfying,  I 


178  ATJ  R  E  LI  AN  . 

ended  a  universal  sceptic,  so  far  as  human  systems  of 
philosophy  were  concerned,  so  far  as  they  pretended  to 
solve  the  enigma  of  God  and  man,  of  life  and  death  ; 
but  with  a  heart,  nevertheless,  yearning  after  truth  ;  and 
even  full  of  faith,  if  that  may  be  called  faith  which  would 
instinctively  lay  hold  upon  a  God  and  a  hope  of  immor 
tality  ;  and,  though  beaten  back  once  and  again,  by  every 
form  which  the  syllogism  could  assume,  still  keep  its 
hold. 

This  was  my  state,  Fausta,  when  I  was  found  by 
Christianity.  Without  faith,  and  yet  with  it ;  doubting, 
and  yet  believing  ;  rejecting  philosophy,  but  leaning 
upon  nature  ;  dissatisfied,  but  hoping.  I  cannot  easilj 
find  words  to  tell  you  the  change  which  Christian  faith 
has  wrought  within  me.  All  I  can  say  is  this,  that  I 
am  now  a  new  man  ;  I  am  made  over  again  ;  I  am  born 
as  it  were  into  another  world,  Where  darkness  once 
was,  there  is  now  light  brighter  than  the  sun.  Where 
doubt  was,  there  is  now  certainty.  I  have  knowledge 
and  truth,  for  error  and  perplexity.  The  inner  world  of 
my  mind  is  resplendent  with  a  day  whose  luminary  will 
never  set.  And  even  the  outer  world  of  appearances 
and  forms  shines  more  gloriously,  and  has  an  air  of 
reality  which  before  it  never  had.  It  used  to  seem  to 
me  like  the  gorgeous  fabric  of  a  dream,  and  as  if,  at 
some  unexpected  moment,  it  might  melt  into  air  and 
nothingness,  and  I,  and  all  men  and  things,  with  it ; 
for  there  appeared  to  be  no  purpose  in  it  ;  it  came  from 
nothing,  it  achieved  nothing,  and  certainly  seemed  to 
conduct  to  nothing.  Men,  like  insects,  came  and  went ; 
were  born,  and  died,  and  that  was  all.  Nothing  was  ac 
complished,  nothing  perfected.  But  now,  nature  seems 


xURELIAN.  179 

to  me  stable,  and  eternal  as  God  himself.  The  world 
being  the  great  birth-place  and  nursery  of  these  myriads 
of  creatures,  made,  as  lever  conceived,  in  a  divine  like 
ness,  after  some  godlike  model, —  for  what  spirit  of  other 
spheres  can  be  more  beautiful  than  a  perfect  man,  or  a 
perfect  woman  —  each  animated  with  the  principle  of 
immortality  —  there  is  a  reason  for  its  existence,  and  its 
perpetuity,  from  whose  force  the  mind  cannot  escape. 
It  is,  and  it  ever  will  be  ;  and  mankind  upon  it,  a  con 
tinually  happier,  and  more  virtuous  brotherhood. 

Yes,  Fausta,  to  me  as  a  Christian,  everything  is  new 
everything  better  ;  the  inward  world,  the  outward  world, 
the  present,  and  the  future.  Life  is  a  worthier  gift,  and 
a  richer  possession.  I  am  to  myself  an  object  of  a  thou 
sand-fold  greater  interest;  and  every  other  human  being, 
from  a  poor  animal,  that  was  scarce  worthy  its  wretched 
existence,  starts  up  into  a  god,  for  whom  the  whole  earth 
may,  one  day,  become  too  narrow  a  field  either  to  till,  or 
rule.  I  am,  accordingly,  ready  to  labor  both  for  myself 
and  others.  I  once  held  myself  too  cheap  to  do  much 
even  for  myself ;  for  others,  I  would  do  nothing,  except 
to  feed  the  hunger  that  directly  appealed  to  me,  or  re 
lieve  the  wretchedness  that  made  me  equally  wretched. 
Not  so  ROW.  I  myself  am  a  different  being,  and  others 
are  different.  I  am  ready  to  toil  for  such  beings ;  to 
suffer  for  them.  They  are  too  valuable  to  be  neglected, 
abused,  insulted,  trodden  into  the  dust.  They  must  be 
defended  and  rescued,  whenever  their  fellow-men  — 
wholly  ignorant  of  what  they  are,  and  what  themselves 
are  about — would  oppress  them.  More  than  all,  do  they 
need  truth,  effectually  to  enlighten  and  redeem  them, 
and  truth  they  must  have  at  whatever  cost.  Let  them 


180  AU  R  E  LI  A  PT. 

only  once  know  what  they  are,  and  the  world  is  safe. 
Christianity  tells  them  this,  and  Christianity  they  must 
have.  The  State  must  not  stand  between  man  and 
truth  !  or,  if  it  do,  it  must  be  rebuked  by  those  who  have 
the  knowledge  and  the  courage,  and  made  to  assume 
its  proper  place  and  office.  Knowing  what  has  been 
done  for  me  by  Christian  truth,  I  can  never  be  content 
until  to  others  the  same  good  is  at  least  offered  ;  and  I 
shall  devote  what  power  and  means  I  possess  to  this 
task.  The  prospect  now  is  of  opposition  and  conflict. 
But  it  dismays  not  me,  nor  Julia,  nor  any  of  this  faith 
who  have  truly  adopted  its  principles.  For,  if  the  mere 
love  of  fame,  the  excitement  of  a  contest,  the  prospect  of 
pay  or  plunder,  will  carry  innumerable  legions  to  the 
battle-field  to  leave  there  their  bones,  how  much  more 
shall  the  belief  of  a  Christian  arm  him  for  even  worse 
encounters  ?  It  were  pitiful  indeed,  if  a  possession,  as 
valuable  as  this  of  truth,  could  not  inspire  a  heroism, 
which  the  love  of  fame  or  of  money  can. 

These  things  I  have  said,  to  put  you  fully  in  posses 
sion  of  our  present  position,  plans,  and  purposes.  The 
fate  of  Christianity  is  to  us  now  as  absorbing  an  interest, 
as  once  was  the  fate  of  Palmyra. 

I  had  been  in  the  city  only  long  enough  to  give  Julia 
a  full  account  of  my  melancholy  visit  in  the  country, 
and  to  write  a  part  of  it  to  you,  when  I  walked  forth  to 
observe  for  myself  the  signs  which  the  city  might  offer, 
either  to  confirm,  or  allay,  the  apprehensions  which 
were  begun  to  be  felt. 

I  took  my  way  over  the  Palatine,  desiring  to  see  the 
excellent  Tacitus,  whose  house  is  there.  He  was  ab- 


AT7R  E  LI  AN  .  181 

sent,  being  suddenly  called  to  Baise.  I  turned  toward 
the  Forum,  wishing  to  perform  a  commission  for  Julia 
at  the  shop  of  Civilis — still  alive,  and  still  compounding 
his  sweets  —  which  is  now  about  midway  between  the 
slope  of  the  hill  and  the  Forum,  having  been  removed 
from  its  former  place  where  you  knew  it,  under  the 
eaves  of  the  Temple  of  Peace.  The  little  man  of 
'  smells '  was  at  his  post,  more  crooked  than  ever,  but 
none  the  less  exquisitely  arrayed  ;  his  wig  befitting  a 
young  Bacchus,  rather  than  a  dried  shred  of  a  man  be 
yond  his  seventieth  year.  All  the  gems  of  the  east  glit 
tered  on  his  thin  fingers,  and  diamonds,  that  might  move 
the  envy  of  Livia,  hung  from  his  ears.  The  gales  of 
Arabia,  burdened  with  the  fragrance  of  every  flower  of 
that  sunny  clime,  seemed  concentrated  into  an  atmos 
phere  around  him  ;  and,  in  truth,  I  suppose  a  specimen 
of  every  pot  and  phial  of  his  vast  shop,  might  be  found 
upon  his  person  concealed  in  gold  boxes,  or  hanging  in 
the  merest  fragments  of  bottles  upon  chains  of  silver  or 
gold,  or  deposited  in  folds  of  his  ample  robes.  He  was 
odor  in  substantial  form.  He  saluted  me  with  a  grace, 
of  which  he  only  in  Rome  is  master,  and  with  a  def 
erence  that  could  not  have  been  exceeded  had  I  been 
Aurelian.  I  told  him  that  I  wished  to  procure  a  per 
fume  of  Egyptian  origin  and  name,  called  Cleopatra's 
tears,  which  was  reputed  to  convey  to  the  organs  of 
smell,  an  odor  more  exquisite  than  that  of  the  rarest 
Persian  rose,  or  choicest  gums  of  Arabia.  The  eyes  of 
Civilis  kindled  with  the  fires  of  twenty  —  when  love's 
anxious  brow  is  suddenly  cleared  up  by  that  little,  but 
all  comprehensive  word,  yes  —  as  he  answered, 
16  VOL.  i. 


IS2        t  AURELIAN. 

1  Noble  Piso,  I  honor  you.  I  never  doubted  your 
taste.  It  is  seen  in  your  palace,  in  your  dress,  nay,  in 
the  very  costume  of  your  incomparable  slave,  who  has 
done  me  the  honor  to  call  here  in  your  service.  But 
now  have  you  given  of  it  the  last  and  highest  proof. 
Never  has  the  wit  of  man  before  compounded  an  essence 
like  that  which  lies  buried  in  this  porphyry  vase.' 

'  You  do  not  mean  that  I  am  to  take  away  a  vase  of 
that  size  ?  I  do  not  purchase  essences  by  the  pound  ! ' 

Civilis  seemed  as  if  he  would  have  fainted,  so  op 
pressed  was  he  by  this  display  of  ignorance.  My  char 
acter,  I  found,  was  annihilated  in  a  moment.  When 
his  presence  of  mind  was  recovered,  he  said, 

'  This  vase  ?  Great  Jupiter  !  The  price  of  your  pal 
ace  upon  the  Coslian  would  scarce  purchase  it  !  •  Were 
its  contents  suddenly  let  loose,  and  spilled  upon  the  air, 
not  Rome  only,  but  Italy,  would  be  bathed  in  the  trans 
porting,  life-giving  fragrance  !  Now  I  shall  remove  the 
cover,  first  giving  you  to  know,  that  within  this  larger 
vase  there  is  a  number  of  smallest  bottles,  some  of  glass, 
others  of  gold,  in  each  of  which  are  contained  a  few  of 
the  tears,  and  which  are  warranted  to  retain  their  po 
tency,  aud  lend  their  celestial  peculiarity  to  your  clothes 
or  your  apartments,  without  loss  or  diminution  in  the 
least  appreciable  degree,  during  the  life  of  the  purcha 
ser.  Now,  if  it  please  you,  bend  this  way,  and  receive 
the  air  which  I  shall  presently  set  free.  How  think 
you,  noble  Piso  ?  Art  not  a  new  man  ? 

*  I  am  new  in  my  knowledge  such  as  it  is  Civilis.  It 
is  certainly  agreeable,  most  agreeable.' 

'  Agreeable  !  So  is  mount  Etna  a  pretty  hill !  So  is 
Aurelian  a  fair  soldier  !  so  is  th«  sun  a  good  sized 


AURE  L  I  A  N. 


183 


brazier  !  I  beseech  thee,  find  another  word.  Let  it 
not  go  forth  to  all  Rome,  that  the  most  noble  Piso  deems 
the  tears  of  Cleopatra  agreeable  ! ' 

'  I  can  think  no  otherwise,'  I  replied.  *  It  is  really 
agreeable,  and  reminds  me,  more  than  anything  else, 
of  the  oldest  Falernian.  just  rubbed  between  the  palms 
of  the  hand,  which  you  will  allow  is  to  compliment  it 
in  no  moderate  measure.  But  confess  now,  Civilis,  that 
you  have  an  hundred  perfumes  more  delicious  than  this  ' 

4  Piso,  I  may  say  this,  —  they  have  been  so.' 

4  Ah,  1  understand  you  ;  you  admit  then,  that  it  is 
the  force  of  fashion  that  lends  this  extraordinary  odor 
to  the  porphyry  vase.' 

1  Truly,  noble  Piso,  it  has  somewhat  to  do  with  it,  it 
must  be  acknowledged.' 

*  It  would   be    curious,  Civilis,  to   know   what  name 
this  bore,  and  in  what  case   it   was   bestowed,  and   at 
what  price  sold,  before  the  Empress  Livia  fancied  it.     I 
think  it  should  have  been   named,   *  Livia's  smiles.'     It 
would,  at  any  rate,  be  a  good  name  for  it  at  thy  shop  in 
Alexandria.' 

*  You  are  facetious,  noble  Piso.     But  that  last  hint  is 
too  good  to  be  thrown  away.     Truly,  you  are  a  man  of 
the  world,  whose  distinction  I  suppose    is,  that   he   has 
eyes  in  the  hind  part  of  his  head,  as    well   as   before. 
But   what   blame    can   be  mine  for  such  dealing  ?     I 
am    driven  ;    I  am  a    slave.     It  is  fashion,  that  works 
these  wonders,  not  I.     And  there   is   no   goddess,  Piso, 
like  her.     She  is  the  true  creator.     Upon  that  which  is 
worthless,  can    she    bestow,  in    a   moment,  inestimable 
value.     What  is  despised  to-day,  she  can  exalt   to-mor 
row  to  the  very  pinnacle  of  honor.     She  is  my  maker. 


184  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

One  day  I  was  poor,  the  goddess  took  me  by  the  hand, 
and  smiled  upon  me,  and  the  next  day  I  was  rich.  It 
was  the  favorite  mistress  of  Maximin,  who,  one  day  — 
her  chariot,  Piso,  so  chance  would  have  it,  broke  down 
at  my  door,  when  she  took  refuge  in  my  little  shop, 
then  at  the  corner  of  the  street  dastor  as  you  turn  to 
wards  the  Tiber  —  purchasing  a  particular  perfume,  of 
which  I  had  large  store,  and  boasted  much  to  her,  gave 
me  such  currency  among  the  rich  and  noble,  that,  from 
that  hour,  my  fortune  was  secure.  No  one  bought  a 
perfume  afterwards  but  of  Civilis.  Civilis  was  soon  the 
next  person  to  the  Emperor.  And,  to  this  hour,  has 
this  same  goddess  befriended  me.  And  many  an  old 
jar,  packed  away  in  the  midst  of  rubbish  in  dark  reces 
ses  now  valueless,  do  I  look  upon  as  nevertheless  so 
much  gold — its  now  despised  contents  one  day  to  dis 
perse  themselves  upon  kings  and  nobles,  in  the  senate 
and  the  theatres.  I  need  not  tell  you  what  this  dimin 
utive  bottle  might  have  been  had  for,  before  the  Kalends. 
Yet,  by  Hercules,  should  I  have  sold  it  even  then  for 
less  ?  for  should  I  not  have  divined  its  fortune  ?  The 
wheel  is  ever  turning,  turning.  But,  most  excellent 
Piso,  men  of  the  world  are  ever  generous  — ' 

*  Fear  nothing,  Civilis,  I  will  not  betray  you.  I  be 
lieve  you  have  spoken  real  truths.  Besides,  with  Livia 
on  your  side,  and  what  could  all  Rome  do  to  hurt  you  ?' 

'Most  true,  most  true.  But,  may  I  ask  —  for  one 
Jiing  has  made  me  astonished  —  how  is  it  that  you,  be 
ing  now,  as  report  goes,  a  Christian,  should  come  tc 
me  to  purchase  essences  ?  When  I  heard  you  had  sc 
named  yourself,  I  looked  to  lose  your  custom  forever 
after.' 


AURELIAN.  1S5 

'Why  should  not  a  Christian  man  smell  of  that 
which  is  agreeable,  as  well  as  another  ?' 

*  Ah,  that  I  cannot  say.     I  have  heard  —  I  know  no 
thing,   Piso,    beyond    essences    and    perfumes  —  but,  1 
have  heard,  that  the  Christians  forbear   such    things, 
calling  them  vanities  ;    just  as   they  withdraw  too,  'tis 
said,  from  the  theatres  and  the  circuses.' 

'  They  do,  indeed,  withdraw  from  the  theatres  and 
circuses,  Civilis,  because  the  entertainments  witnessed 
there  do,  as  they  judge,  serve  but  to  make  beasts  of 
men  ;  they  minister  to  vice.  But  in  a  sweet  smell  they 
see  no  harm,  any  more  than  in  a  silk  dress,  in  well- 
proportioned  buildings,  or  magnificent  porticoes.  Why 
should  it  be  very  wrong  or  very  foolish  to  catch  the 
odors  which  the  divine  Providence  plants  in  the  rose, 
and  in  a  thousand  flowers  and  gums  as  they  wander 
forth  upon  the  air  for  our  delight,  and  fasten  them  up 
in  these  little  bottles  ?  by  which  means  we  can  breathe 
them  at  all  times  —  in  winter  as  well  as  in  summer,  in 
one  country,  or  clime,  as  in  another.  Thy  shop,  Civ 
ilis,  is  but  a  flower-garden  in  another  form,  and  under 
another  name.' 

1 1  shall  think  better  of  the  Christians  for  this.  1 
hardly  believed  the  report,  indeed,  for  it  were  most  un 
natural  and  strange  to  find  fault  with  odors  such  as 
these.  I  shall  lament  the  more,  that  they  are  to  be  so 
dealt  with  by  the  Emperor.  Hast  thou  heard  what  is 
reported  this  morning  ? ' 

*  No  ;  I  am  but  just  from  home.     How  does  it  go  ?' 

'  Why,  'tis  nothing  other  nor  less  than  this,  that  An- 
relian,  being  resolved  to  change  the  Christians  all  back 
16*         VOL.  i. 


186  AU  R  E  LI  AN  . 

again  into  what  they  were,  has  begun  with  his  niece 
the  princess  Aurelia,  and,  with  violence,  insists  that  she 
shall  sacrifice  —  which  she  steadfastly  refuses  to  do. 
Some  say,  that  she  has  not  been  seen  at  the  palace  for 
several  days,  and  that  she  is  fast  locked  up  in  the  great 
prison  on  the  Tiber.' 

'  I  do  not  believe  a  word  of  it,  Civilis.  The  Emperor 
has  of  late  used  harsh  language  of  the  Christians,  I 
know.  But  for  one  word  he  has  spoken,  the  city  has 
coined  ten.  And,  moreover,  the  words  of  the  priest 
Pronto  are  quoted  for  those  of  Aurelian.  It  is  well 
known  he  is  especially  fond  of  Aurelia ;  and  Mucapor, 
to  whom  she  is  betrothed,  is  his  favorite  among  all  his 
generals,  not  excepting  Probus.' 

*  Well,  well,  may  it  be  as  you   say  !    I,  for  my  part, 
should  be  sorry  that  any  mishap  befel  those  with  whom 
the    most  noble    Piso  is  connected  ;  especially  seeing 
they  do  not  quarrel,  as  I  was  fain  to  believe,  with  my 
calling.     Yet,  never  before,  as  I  think,  have  I   seen  a 
Christian  in  my  shop.' 

4  They  may  have  been  here  without  your  knowing  it.' 

*  Yes,  that  is  true.' 

*  Besides,  the  Christians  being  in  the  greater  propor 
tion  of  the   middle  or  humbler  classes,  seek  not  their 
goods  at  places  where  emperors  resort.     They  go  else 
where.' 

Civilis  bowed  to  the  floor,  as  he  replied,  '  You  do  me 
too  much  honor.' 

*  The  two  cases  of  perfume  which  I  buy,'  I  then  said, 
1  are  to  travel  into  the  far  East.     Please  to  secure  them 
accordingly.' 


AURELIAN.  18? 

'  Are  they  not  then  for  the  princess  Julia,  as  I  sup 
posed  ? ' 

*  They  are  for  a  friend  in  Syria.     We  wish  her  to 
know  what  is  going  on  here  in   the  capital  of  all  thp 
world.' 

*  By  the  gods  !  you  have  devised  well      It  is  the  talk 
all  over  Rome.     Cleopatra's  tears  have  taken  all  hearts. 
Orders  from  the  provinces  will  soon  pour  in.     They 
shall  follow  you  well  secured,  as  you  say.' 

I  enjoy  a  call  upon  this  whole  Roman,  and  yet  half 
Jew,  as  much  as  upon  the  first  citizens  of  the  capital. 
The  cup  of  Aurelian,  is  no  fuller  than  the  cup  of  Civilis. 
The  perfect  bliss  that  emanates  from  his  countenance, 
and  breathes  from  his  form  and  gait,  is  pleasing  to  be 
hold —  upon  whatever  founded — seeing  it  is  a  state 
that  is  reached  by  so  few.  No  addition  could  be  made 
to  the  felicity  of  this  fortunate  man.  He  conceives  his 
occupation  to  be  more  honorable  than  the  proconsulship 
of  a  province,  and  his  name,  he  pleases  himself  with 
believing,  is  familiar  to  more  ears  than  any  man's,  save 
the  Emperor's,  and  has  been  known  in  Rome  for  a 
longer  period  than  any  other  person's  living,  excepting 
only  the  head  of  the  Senate,  the  venerable  Tacitus. 
This  is  all  legible  in  the  lines  about  his  mouth  and  eyes. 

Leaving  the  heaven  of  the  happy  man,  I  turned  to 
the  Forum  of  Augustus,  to  look  at  a  statue  of  brass,  of 
Aurelian,  just  placed  among  the  great  men  of  Rome  in 
front  of  the  Temple  of  Mars,  the  Avenger.  This  statue 
is  the  work  of  Periander,  who,  with  that  universality  of 
power  which  marks  the  Greek,  has  made  his  genius  as 
distinguished  here  for  sculpture,  as  it  was  in  Palmyra 
for  military  defence  and  architecture.  Who,  for  Derfec- 


188  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

lion  in  this  art  of  arts,  is  to  be  compared  with  the  Greek  » 
or  for  any  work,  of  either  the  head  or  the  hands,  that 
implies  the  possession  of  what  we  mean  by  genius  ? 
The  Greeks  have  not  only  originated  all  that  we  know 
of  great  and  beautiful  in  letters,  philosophy  and  the  arts, 
but,  what  they  have  originated,  they  have  also  perfected. 
Whatever  they  have  touched,  they  have  finished ;  at 
least,  so  far  as  art,  and  the  manner  of  working,  is  concern 
ed.  The  depths  of  all  wisdom  and  philosophy  they  have 
not  sounded  indeed,  though  they  have  gone  deeper  than 
any,  only  because  they  are  in  their  own  essence  unfath 
omable.  Time,  as  it  flows  on,  bears  us  to  new  regions  to 
be  explored,  whose  riches  constantly  add  new  stores  to 
our  wisdom,  and  open  new  views  to  science.  But  in  all 
art  they  have  reached  a  point  beyond  which  none  have 
since  advanced,  and  beyond  which  it  hardly  seems  pos 
sible  to  go.  A  doric  column,  a  doric  temple,  a  corinthian 
capital,  a  corinthian  temple  —  these  perfectly  satisfy  and 
fill  the  mind  ;  and,  for  seven  hundred  years,  no  change 
or  addition  has  been  made  or  attempted  that  has  not 
been  felt  to  be  an  injury.  And  I  doubt  not  that  seven 
thousand  years  hence,  if  time  could  but  spare  it  so  long, 
pilgrims  would  still  go  in  search  of  the  beautiful  from 
the  remotest  parts  of  the  world,  from  parts  now  unknown, 
to  worship  before  the  Parthenon,  and,  may  I  not  add,  the 
Temple  of  the  Sun  in  Palmyra  ! 

Periander  has  gained  new  honors  by  this  admirable 
piece  of  work.  I  had  hardly  commenced  my  examina 
tion  of  it,  when  a  grating  voice  at  my  elbow,  never,  once 
heard,  to  be  mistaken  for  any  other,  croaked  out  what 
was  meant  as  a  challenge. 

•  The  greatest  captain  of  this  or  of  ony  age  ' ' 


AURELIAN.  1S9 

It  was  Spurius,  a  man  whom  no  slight  can  chill  nor, 
even  insult,  cause  to  abate  the  least  of  his  intrusive 
familiarity  —  a  familiarity  which  he  covets,  too,  only  for 
the  sake  of  disputation  and  satire.  To  me,  however,  he 
is  never  other  than  a  source  of  amusement.  He  is"  a 
variety  of  the  species  I  love  occasionally  to  study. 

I  told  him  I  was  observing  the  workmanship,  without 
thinking  of  the  man  represented. 

4  If  you  will  allow  me  to  say  it,'  he  rejoined,  '  a  very 
inferior  subject  of  contemplation.  A  statue — as  I  take  it, 
the  thing-,  that  is,  for  which  it  is  made,  is  commemora 
tion.  If  one  wants  to  see  fine  work  in  marble,  there  is 
the  cornice  for  him  just  overhead  :  or  in  brass,  let  him 
look  at  the.  doors  of  the  new  temple,  or  the  last  table  or 
couch  of  Syphax.  The  proper  subject  for  man  is  man.' 

•  Well,  Spurius,  on  your  own  ground  then.  In  this 
brass  I  do  not  see  brass,  nor  yet  Aurelian  — ' 

1  What  then,  in  the  name  of  Hecate  ?  ' 

'Nothing  but  intellect  —  the  mind,  the  soul  of  the 
greater  artist,  Periander.  That  drapery  never  fell  so 
upon  Aurelian  ;  nor  was  Aurelian's  form  or  bearing 
ever  like  this.  It  is  all  ennobled,  and  exalted  above  pure 
nature,  by  the  divine  power  of  genius.  The  true  artist, 
under  every  form  and  every  line  of  nature,  sees  another 
form  and  line  of  more  perfect  grace  and  beauty,  which 
he  chooses  instead,  and  makes  it  visible  and  permanent 
in  stone  or  brass.  You  see  nothing  in  me,  but  merely 
Piso  as  he  walks  the  streets.  Periander  sees  another 
within,  bearing  no  more  resemblance  to  me  —  yet  as 
much  —  than  does  this,  to  Aurelian.' 

'  That,  I  simply  conceive,  to  be  so  much  sophistry,'  re 
joined  the  poet,  •  which  no  man  would  be  guilty  of,  ex- 


190  A  V  E  E  L  I  A  N  . 

cept  he  had  been  for  the  very  purpose,  as  one  must  think; 
of  degrading  his  intellect,  to  the  Athenian  schools.  Still, 
as  I  said  and  think,  the  statue  is  made  to  commemorate 
the  man  represented,  not  the  artist.' 

*  It  is  made  for  that.     But,  oftentimes,  the  very  name 
of  the  man  commemorated  is  lost,  while  that  of  the   ar 
tist  lives  forever.     In  my  judgment  there   is  as  much  of 
Periander  in  the  statue  as  there  is  of  Aurelian.' 

4 1  know  not  what  the  fame  of  this  great  Periander  may 
be  ages  hence.  It  has  not  till  now  reached  my  ear.' 

*  It  is  not  easy  to  reach  the  ear  of  some  wh6  dwell  in 
the  via  co3li.'     1  could  not  help  saying  that. 

'  My  rooms,  sir,  I  would  inform  you,'  he  rejoined 
sharply,  *  are  on  the  third  floor.' 

1  Then  I  do  wonder  you  should  not  have  heard  of 
Periander.' 

'  Greater  than  Aurelian  !  and  I  must  wonder  too.  A 
poet  may  be  greater  than  a  general  or  an  emperor,  I 
grant  :  he  is  one  of  the  family  of  the  gods  ;  but  how  a 
worker  in  brass  or  marble  can  be,  passes  my  poor  un 
derstanding.  It  is  vain  to  attempt  to  raise  the  mere 
artist,  to  the  level  of  the  historian  or  poet.' 

*  I  think  that  too.     I  only  said  he  was  greater  than 
Aurelian  — ' 

*  Than  Aurelian,'  replied  Spurius,  'who  has  extended 
the  bounds  of  the  empire  ! ' 

'  But  narrowed  those  of  human  happiness,'  I  an 
swered.  *  Which  is  of  more  consequence,  empire  or 
man  ?  But  now,  man  was  the  great  object  !  I  grant 
you  he  is,  and  for  that  reason  a  man  who,  like  an  artist 
of  genius,  adds  to  the  innocent  sources  of  human  enjoy 
ment,  is  greater  than  the  soldier  and  conqueror,  whose 


AURELIAN.  191 

business  is  the  annoyance  and  destruction  of  life.  Au- 
relian  has  slain  hundreds  of  thousands.  Periander 
never  injured  a  worm.  He  dwells  in  a  calm  and  peace 
ful  world  of  his  own,  and  his  works  are  designed  to  in* 
fuse  the  same  spirit  that  fills  himself  into  all  who  behold 
them.  You  must  confess  the  superior  power  of  art,  and 
of  the  artist,  in  this  very  figure.  Who  thinks  of  con 
quest,  blood,  and  death,  as  he  looks  upon  these  flowing 
outlines,  this  calm,  majestic  form  —  upon  that  still  face  ? 
The  artist  here  is  the  conqueror  of  the  conqueror,  and 
makes  him  subserve  his  own  purposes  ;  purposes,  of  a 
higher  nature  than  the  mere  soldier  ever  dreamed  of. 
No  one  can  stand  and  contemplate  this  form,  without 
being  made  a  lover  of  beauty  rather  than  of  blood  and 
death  ;  and  beauty  is  peace.' 

*  It  must  be  impossible,'  replied  the  bitter  spirit,  '  for 
one  who  loves  Palmyra  better  than  his  native  Rome,  to 
see  much  merit  in  Aurelian.     It  is  a   common   saying, 
Piso  is  a  Palmyrene.     The   report   is  current   too  that 
Piso   is  about  to  turn  author,  and  celebrate    that  great 
nation  in  history.' 

*  I  wish  I  were  worthy  to  do  so,'  1  answered,  *  I  might 
then  refute  certain  statements  in  another  quarter.     Yet 
events  have  already  refuted  them.' 

*  If  my  book,'  replied  Spurius,  '  be  copied  a  thousand 
times,  the  statements  shall  stand  as  they  are.     They  are 
founded  upon  indisputable  evidence   and  philosophical 
inferences.' 

4  But,  Spurius,  they  are  every  one  contradicted  by 
the  late  events.' 

'  No  matter  for  that,  if  they  were  ever  true  they  must 
always  be  true.  Reasoning  is  as  strong  as  fact.  I 


192  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

*ound  Palmyra  a  vulgar,  upstart,  provincial  city  ;  the 
most  distasteful  of  all  spots  on  earth  to  a  refined  mind  ; 
such  I  left  it,  and  such  I  have  shown  it  to  the  world.' 

'  Yet,'  I  urged,  '  if  the  Palmyrenes  in  the  defence  of 
their  country  showed  themselves  a  brave,  daring,  and 
dangerous  foe,  as  they  certainly  were  magnanimous  ;  if 
so  many  facts  and  events  prove  this,  and  all  Rome  admits 
it,  it  will  seem  like  little  else  than  malice  for  such  pages 
to  circulate  in  your  book.  Besides,  as  to  a  thousand 
other  things  I  can  prove  you  to  have  seen  amiss.' 

'  Because  I  have  but  one  eye,  am  I  incapable  of  vis 
ion?  Am  I  to  be  reproached  with  my  misfortunes?  One 
eye  is  the  same  as  two  ;  who  sees  two  images  except  he 
squint  ?  I  can  describe  that  wain,  loaded  down  with 
wine  casks,  drawn  by  four  horses  with  scarlet  trappings, 
the  driver  with  a  sweeping  Juno's  favor  in  his  cap,  as 
justly  as  you  can.  Who  can  see  more  ? ' 

'  I  thought  not,  Spurius,  of  your  misfortune,  though  I 
must  think  two  eyes  better  for  seeing  than  one,  but  only 
of  favorable  opportunities  for  observation.  You  were  in 
Palmyra  from  the  ides  of  January  to  the  nones  of  Feb 
ruary,  and  lived  in  a  tavern.  I  have  been  there  more 
than  half  a  year,  and  dwelt  among  the  citizens  them 
selves.  I  knew  them  in  public  and  in  private,  and  saw 
them  under  all  circumstances  most  favorable  to  a  just 
opinion,  and  I  can  affirm  that  a  more  discolored  picture 
of  a  people  was  never  drawn  than  yours.' 

'  All  the  world,'  said  the  creature, '  knows  that  Spurius 
is  no  flatterer.  I  have  not  only  published  travels  among 
the  Palmyrenes,  but  I  intend  to  publish  a  poem  also  — 
yes,  a  satire  —  and  if  it  should  be  entitled  "  Woman's 
pride  humbled,"  or  "  The  downfall  of  false  greatness  " 


AU  R  ELI  A  N  .  193 

or  "  The  gourd  withered  in  a  day,"  or  "  Mushrooms  nOi 
oaks,"  or  "  Ants  not  elephants,"  what  would  there  be 
wonderful  in  it  ?  —  or,  if  certain  Romans  should  figure 
largely  in  it,  eh  ? ' 

4  Nothing  is  less  wonderful,  Spurius,  than  the  obsti 
nacy  and  tenaciousness  of  error  ?  ' 

'  Periander  greater  than  Aurelian  !'    rejoined  he,  mo 
ving  off;  '  that  is  a  good  thing  for  the  town,' 

As  I  turned,  intending  to  visit  the  shop  of  Demetrius, 
to  see  what  progress  he  was  making  in  his  silver 
Apollo,  I  was  accosted  by  the  consul,  Marcellinus. 

*  A  fair  morning  to  you,  Piso,'  said  he  ;   '  and  I  see 
you  need  the  salutation  and  the  wish,  for  a  black  cloud 
has   just  drifted  from  you,  and  you  must  still  feel  as  if 
under  the  shadow.     Half  the  length  of  the  street,  as  I 
slowly  approached,  have  I  witnessed  your   earnest  dis 
course  with  one  whom,  I  now  see,  to   have    been  Spu 
rius.     But  I    trust   your   Christian   principles   are  not 
about  to  make  an  agrarian  of  you  ?     Whence  this  sud 
den  intimacy  with  one  like  Spurius  ? ' 

*  One  need  not,  I  suppose,  be   set  down  as  a  lover  of 
an  east  wind  because  they  both  sometimes  take  the  same 
road,  and  can  scarcely  separate  if  they  would  ?     But,  to 
speak  the  truth,  a  man  is  to  me  a  man,  and  I  never  yet 
have  met  one  of  the  race  from  whom  I  could  not  gain 
either  amusement,  instruction,  or  warning.     Spurius  is 
better  than  a  lecture  from   a  philosopher,  upon  the  odi- 
ousness  of  prejudice.     To  any  one  inclined   to   harbor 
prejudices  would  I  recommend  an  hour's  interview  with 
Spurius,  sooner  far  than  I  would  send  him  to  Cleanthea 

17  VOL.  I. 


194  A  UR  EL  IAN. 

the  Stoic,  or  Silius    the  Platonist,  or,  I  had  almost  said 
Probus  the  Christian.' 

*  May  I  ask,  Piso,  if  you  have  in  sober  earnest  joined 
yourself  to  the  community  of  the  Christians,  or,  are  you 
only  dallying  for  awhile  with  their  doctrines,  just  as  our 
young  men  are  this  year    infected   by    the   opinions    of 
Cleanthes,  the  next  followers  of  Silius,  the  third  of  the 
nuisance  Crito,  and  the  fourth,  adrift  from  all,    and  the 
fifth,  good  defenders,  if  not  believers,  of  the  popular  su 
perstitions  ?     I  presume  I  may  believe  that  such  is  the 
case  with  you.     I  trust  so,  for  the  times  are  not  favora 
ble  for  the  Christians,  and  I  would   like   to   know   that 
you  were  not  of  them.' 

'  I  am  however  of  them,  with  earnestness.  I  have 
been  a  Christian  ever  since  I  first  thoroughly  compre 
hended  what  it  meant.' 

*  But  how  can  it  be  possible  that,  standing  as  you  do 
at  the  head  as  it  were  of  the  nobility  and  wealth  of  Rome, 
you  can  confound  yourself  with  this  obscure  and  vulgar 
tribe  ?    I  know  that  some  few  of  reputation  are  with  them 
beside  yourself  ;  but  how  few  !     Come,  come,  disabuse 
yourself  of  this  error  and  return  to  the  old,  safe,  and  rep 
utable  side.' 

4  If  mere  fancy,  Marcellinus,  had  carried  me  over  to 
the  Christians,  fancy  or  whim  might  bring  me  away 
from  them.  But  if  it  be,  on  the  other  hand,  a  question 
of  truth,  then  it  is  clear,  fashion  and  respectability,  and 
even  what  is  safest,  or  most  expedient,  are  arguments 
not  to  be  so  much  as  lisped.' 

'  No  more,  no  more  !  I  see  how  it  is.  You  are  fairly 
gone  from  us.  Nevertheless,  though  it  may  be  thought 
needful  to  check  the  growth  of  this  sect,  I  shall  hope  that 


AURELIAN.  195 

your  bark  may  sail  safely  along.     But  this  reported  disap 
pearance  of  Aurelia  shows  that  danger  is  not  far  off.' 

*  Do  you  then  credit  the  rumor  ? ' 

1 1  can  do  no  otherwise.  It  is  in  every  part  of  the 
town.  I  shall  learn  the  truth  at  the  capitol.  I  go  to 
meet  the  senate.' 

1  One  moment :  Is  my  judgment  of  the  senate  a  right  one 
in  this,  that  it  would  not  second  Aurelian  in  an  attack 
upon  the  privileges,  property,  or  lives  of  the  Christians  ? ' 

*  I  think  it  is.     Although,  as    I   know,  there   are  but 
few  Christians  in    the   body  —  how   many   you   know 
surely  better  than  I  —  yet  I  am  persuaded  it  would  be 
averse  to  acts  of  intolerance  and  persecution.     Will  you 
not  accompany  me  to  the  sitting  ?  ' 

'  Not  so  early.  I  am  first  bound  elsewhere.' 
You  know,  Fausta,  that  I  avoid  the  senate.  Being 
no  longer  a  senate,  a  Roman  senate,  but  a  mere  gathering 
of  the  flatterers  of  the  reigning  Emperor,  whoever  he 
may  be,  neither  pleasure  nor  honor  can  come  of  their 
company.  There  is  one  aspect  however,  at  the  present 
moment,  in  which  this  body  is  to  be  contemplated  with 
interest.  It  is  not,  in  matters  of  religion,  a  superstitious 
body.  Here  it  stands,  between  Aurelian  with  the  popu 
lace  on  his  side,  and  the  Christians,  or  whatever  relig 
ious  body  or  sect  there  should  be  any  design  to  oppress 
or  exterminate.  It  consists  of  the  best  and  noblest,  and 
richest,  of  Rome  ;  of  those  who  have  either  imbibed  their 
opinions  in  philosophy  and  religion  from  the  ancient  phi 
losophers  or  their  living  representatives,  or  are  indifferent 
and  neglectful  of  the  whole  subject  ;  which  is  the  more 
common  case.  In  either  respect  they  are  as  a  body  toler 
ant  of  the  various  forms  which  religion  or  superstition 


196 


AURELI  AN. 


may  assume.     The    only  points  of  interest  or  inquiry 
with  them  would  be,  whether  any  specified  faith  or  cer 
emonies  tended  to  the  injury  of  the  state  ?  whether  .hey 
affected  to  its  damage  the  existing  order  of  civil  affairs  ? 
These  questions  being  answered    favorably  on  the  part 
of  the  greater  number,  there  would  be  no  disposition  to 
interfere.     Of  Christianity,  the    common  judgment  in 
that  body,  and  among  those  in  the  capital  who  are  of 
the    same  general  rank,  is  for  the  most  part  favorable. 
It  is  commended  for  its  modesty,  for  the  quiet  and  unos 
tentatious  manner  in  which  its  religious  affairs  are  man 
aged,  and  for  the  humble  diligence  with  which  it  con 
cerns    itself    with  the    common   people  and  the  poor, 
carefully  instructing  them  in  the  doctrines  of  their  re 
ligion,  and  relieving   liberally    their   necessities.     I  am 
persuaded,  that  any  decision  of  the    senate    concerning 
the  Christians,  would  be   indulgent   and   paternal,   and 
that  it  would,  in  opinion  and  feeling,  be  opposed  to  any 
violence  whatever  on  the  part  of  Aurelian.     But  then, 
alas  !  it  is  little  that  they  can  do  with  even  the  best  pur 
poses.     The  Emperor  is  absolute  —  the  only   power,  in 
truth,  in  the  state.     The  senate  exists  but  in   name  and 
form.     It  has  even  less  independent  power  than  that  ol 
Palmyra  had   under    Zenobia.     Yours,  indeed,  was  de 
pendent  through  affection  and  trust,  reposing  in  a  higher 
wisdom  than  its  own.     This,  through  fear  and  the  spirit 
of  flattery.     So  many  members  too  were  added,  after  the 
murderous  thinning  of  its  seats  in  the  affair  of  the  mint, 
that,  now,scarce  a  voice  would  be  raised  in  open  opposition 
to  any  course  the  Emperor  might  adopt.     The  new  mem 
bers  being  moreover  of  newer  families,  nearer  the  peo 
ple,  are  less  inclined  than  the  others  to  resist  any  ot  his 


AURELIAN.  197 

measures.  Still,  it  is  most  evident  that  there  is  an  un 
der  current  of  ill-will,  opposition,  jealousy,  distrust,  run 
ning  through  the  body,  which,  if  the  opportunity  should 
present  itself,  and  there  were  courage  enough  for  the 
work,  may  show  itself  and  make  itself  felt  and  respect 
ed.  The  senate,  in  a  word,  though  slavish  and  subser 
vient,  is  not  friendly. 

But  I  am  detaining  you  from  the  company  of  Deme 
trius,  of  which  you  were  always  fond.  I  soon  reached 
his  rich  establishment,  and  being  assured  that  he  of 
Palmyra  was  within,  I  entered.  First  passing  through 
many  apartments,  filled  with  those  who  were  engaged  in 
some  one  of  the  branches  of  this  beautiful  art,  I  came 
to  that  which  was  sacred  to  the  labors  of  the  two  bro 
thers,  who  are  employed  in  the  invention  of  the  designs 
of  their  several  works,  in  drawing  the  plans,  in  prepar 
ing  the  models,  and  then  in  overseeing  the  younger  ar 
tists  at  their  tasks,  themselves  performing  all  the  higher 
and  more  difficult  parts  of  the  labor.  Demetrius  was 
working  alone  at  his  statue ;  the  room  in  which  he  was, 
being  filled  either  with  antiquities  in  brass,  ivory,  silver, 
or  gold,  or  with  finished  specimens  of  his  own  and  his 
brother's  skill,  all  disposed  with  the  utmost  taste,  and 
with  all  the  advantages  to  be  derived  from  the  architec 
ture  of  the  room,  from  a  soft  and  mellowed  light  resem 
bling  moonlight  which  came  through  alabaster  windows, 
from  the  rich  cloths,  silks,  and  other  stuffs,  variously 
disposed  around,  and  from  the  highly  ornamented  cab 
inets  in  which  articles  of  greatest  perfection  and  value 
were  kept  and  exhibited.  Here  stood  the  enthusiast, 
applying  himself  so  intently  to  his  task,  that  he  neither 
17*  VOL.  i. 


198  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

heard  the  door  of  the  apartment  as  it  opened,  nor  the 
voice  of  the  slave  who  announced  my  name.  But,  in  a 
moment,  as  he  suddenly  retreated  to  a  dark  recess  to 
observe  from  that  point  the  effect  of  his  touches  as  he 
proceeded,  he  saw  me,  and  cried  out, 

'Most  glad  to  greet  you  here,  Piso ;  your  judgment 
is,  at  tMs  very  point,  what  I  shall  be  thankful  for.  Here, 
if  it  please  you,  move  to  the  very  spot  in  which  I  now 
am  in,  and  tell  me  especially  this,  whether  the  finger  of 
the  right  hand  should  not  be  turned  a  line  farther  to 
ward  the  left  of  the  figure.  The  metal  is  obstinate,  but 
still  it  can  be  bent  if  necessary.  Now  judge,  and  speak 
your  judgment  frankly,  for  my  sake.' 

I  sank  back  into  the  recess  as  desired,  and  considered 
attentively  the  whole  form,  rough  now  and  from  the 
moulds,  and  receiving  the  first  finishing  touches  from 
the  rasp  and  the  chisel.  I  studied  it  long  and  at  my 
leisure,  Demetrius  employing  himself  busily  about 
some  other  matter.  It  is  a  beautiful  and  noble  figure, 
worthy  any  artist's  reputation  of  any  age,  and  of  a 
place  in  the  magnificent  temple  for  which  it  is  designed. 
So  I  assured  Demetrius,  giving  him  at  length  my  opin 
ion  upon  every  part.  I  ended  with  telling  him  I  did 
not  believe  that  any  effect  would  be  gained  by  altering 
the  present  direction  of  the  finger.  It  had  come  perfect 
from  the  moulds. 

'  Is  that  your  honest  judgment,  Piso  ?  Christians, 
they  say,  ever  speak  the  exact  truth.  Fifty  times  have 
I  gone  where  you  now  are  to  determine  the  point.  My 
brother  says  it  is  right.  But  I  cannot  tell.  I  have  at 
tempted  the  work  in  too  much  haste ;  but  Aurelian 
thinks,  I  believe,  that  a  silver  man  may  be  made  as 


A  UR  ELI  AN.  199 

easily  as  a  flesh  one  may  be  unmade.  Rome  is  not 
Palmyra,  Piso.  What  a  life  there  for  an  artist !  Calm 
as  a  summer  sea.  Here !  by  all  the  gods  and  god 
desses  !  if  one  hears  of  anything  but  of  blood  and  death  ! 
Heads  all  on  where  they  should  be  to-day,  to-morrow 
are  off.  To-day,  captives  cut  up  on  the  altars  of  some 
accursed  god,  and  to-morrow  thrown  to  some  savage 
beast,  no  better  and  no  worse,  for  the  entertainment  of 
savages'  worse  than  either  or  all.  The  very  boys  in  the 
streets  talk  of  little  else  than  of  murderous  sports  of  gla 
diators  or  wild  animals.  I  swear  to  you,  a  man  can 
scarce  collect  or  keep  his  thoughts  here.  What's  this 
about  the  Christians  too  ?  I  marvel,  Piso,  to  see  you 
here  alive  !  They  say  you  are  to  be  all  cut  up  root  and 
branch.  Take  my  advice,  and  fly  with  me  back  to 
Palmyra  !  Not  another  half  year  would  I  pass  among 
these  barbarians  for  all  the  patronage  of  the  Emperor, 
his  minions,  and  the  senate  at  their  heels.  What  say 
you? ' 

*  No,  Demetrius,  I  cannot  go  ;  but  I  should  not  blame 
you  for  going.     Rome  is  no  place,  I  agree  with  you,  for 
the  life  contemplative,  or  for  the  pure  and  innocent  la 
bors  of  art.     It  is  the  spot  for  intense  action  ;  but  —  ' 

'  Suffering  you  mean  —  ' 

*  That  too,  most  assuredly,  but  of  action  too.     It  is  the 
great  heart  of  the  world.' 

'  Black  as  Erebus  and  night.' 

'  Yes,  but  still  a  great  one,  which,  if  it  can  be 
once  made  to  beat  true,  will  send  its  blood,  then  a  pure 
and  life-giving  current,  to  the  remotest  extremities  of  the 
world,  which  is  its  body.  I  hope  for  the  time  to  come 
when  this  will  be  true.  There  is  more  goodness  in 


200  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

Rome,  Demetrius,  than  you  have  heard,  or  known  of 
There  is  a  people  here  worth  saving :  I,  with  the  othei 
Christians,  am  set  to  this  work.  We  must  not  aban 
don  it.' 

'  'Twill  be  small  comfort  though,  should  you  all  per 
ish  doing  it.' 

'  Our  perishing  might  be  but  the  means  of  new  and 
greater  multitudes  springing  up  to  finish  what  we  had 
begun,  but  left  incomplete.  There  is  great  life  in  death. 
Blood,  spilled  upon  the  ground,  is  a  kind  of  seed  that 
comes  up  men.  Truth  is  not  extinguished  by  putting 
out  life.  It  then  seems  to  shine  the  more  brightly,  as  if 
the  more  to  cheer  and  comfort  those  who  are  suffering 
and  dying  for  it.' 

*  That  may,  or  may  not  be,'  said  the  artist,  l  here  and 
there  ;  but,  in  my  judgment,  if  this  man-slayer,  this 
world-butcher  once  fastens  his  clutches  upon  your  tribe, 
he  will  leave  none  to  write  your  story.  How  many 
were  left  in  Palmyra  ?  —  Just,  Piso,  resume  your  point 
of  observatian,  and  judge  whether  this  fold  of  the  dra 
pery  were  better  as  it  is,  or  joined  to  the  one  under  it, 
an  alteration  easily  made.' 

I  gave  him  my  opinion,  and  he  went  on  filing  and 
talking. 

'  And  now,  Piso,  if  I  must  tell  you,  I  have  conceived 
a  liking  for  you  Christians,  and  it  is  for  this  reason 
partly  I  would  have  you  set  about  to  escape  the  evil 
that  is  at  least  threatened.  Here  is  my  brother,  whose 
equal  the  world  does  not  hold,  is  become  a  Christian. 
Then,  do  you  know,  here  is  a  family,  just  in  the  rear  of 
our  shop,  of  one  Macer,  a  Christian  and  a  preacher,  that 
has  won  upon  us  strangely.  I  see  much  of  them.  Some 


AU  R  E  LI  A  N  .  201 

of  his  boys  are  in  a  room  below,  helping  on  by  their  la 
bor  the  support  of  their  mother  and  those  who  are 
younger,  for  I  trow,  Macer  himself  does  little  for  them, 
whatever  he  may  be  doing  for  the  world  at  large,  or  its 
great  heart  as  you  call  it.  But,  what  is  more  still,'  cried 
he  with  emphasis,  and  a  jump  at  the  same  moment,  throw 
ing  down  his  tools,  '  do  you  know  the  Christians  have 
some  sense  of  vyhat  is  good  in  our  way  ?  they  aspire  to 
the  elegant,  as  well  as  others  who  are  in  better  esteem.' 

And  as  he  finished,  he  threw  open  the  doors  of  a 
small  cabinet,  and  displayed  a  row  of  dishes,  cups,  and 
pitchers,  of  elegant  form  and  workmanship. 

*  These,'  he  went  on,  *  are  for  the  church  of  Felix,  the 
bishop  of  the  Christians.  What  they  do  with  them 
I  know  not ;  but,  as  I  was  told  by  the  bishop,  they  have 
a  table  or  altar  of  marble,  on  which,  at  certain  times, 
they  are  arranged  for  some  religious  rite  or  other.  They 
are  not  of  gold,  as  they  seem,  but  of  silver  gilded. 
My  brother  furnished  the  designs,  and  put  them  into 
the  hands  of  Flaccus,  who  wrought  them.  Neither  I 
nor  my  brother  could  labor  at  them,  as  you  may  believe, 
but  it  shows  a  good  ambition  in  the  Christians  to  try  for 
the  first  skill  in  Rome  or  the  world,  —  does  it  not  ? 
They  are  a  promising  people.' 

Saying  which,  he  closed  the  doors  and  flew  to  his 
work  again. 

At  the  same  moment  the  door  of  the  apartment  opened, 
and  the  brother  Demetrius  entered  accompanied  by  Pro- 
bus.     When  our  greetings  were  over,  Probus  said,  con 
tinuing  as  it  seemed  a  conversation  just  broken  off, 

4 1  did  all  I  could  to  prevent  it,  but  the  voice  of  numbers 
was  against  me,  and  of  authority  too,  and,  both  together, 


202  A  17  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

they  prevailed.  You,  I  believe,  sto<  d  neuter,  or  indeed, 
I  may  suppose,  knew  nothing  about  the  difference  ?' 

'  As  you  suppose/  replied  the  elder  Demetrius,  «  I 
knew  nothing  of  it,  but  designed  the  work  and  have 
completed  it.  Here  it  is.'  And  going  to  the  same  cab 
inet,  again  opened  the  doors  and  displayed  the  con 
tents.  Probus  surveyed  them  with  a  melancholy  air, 
saying,  as  he  did  so, 

'  I  could  bear  that  the  vessels,  used  for  the  purpose  to 
which  these  are  destined,  should  be  made  of  gold,  or 
even  of  diamond  itself,  could  mines  be  found  to  furnish 
it,  and  skill  to  hollow  it  out.  For,  we  know,  the  wine 
which  these  shall  hold  is  that  which,  in  the  way  of  sym 
bol,  shadows  forth  the  blood  of  Christ  which,  by  being 
shed  on  the  cross,  purchased  for  us  this  Christian  truth 
and  hope  ;  and  what  should  be  set  out  with  every  form 
of  human  honor,  if  not  this  ?' 

1 1  think  so,'  replied  Demetrius  ;  '  to  that  which  we 
honor  and  reverence  in  our  hearts  we  must  add  the  out 
ward  sign  and  testimony  ;  especially  moreover  if  we 
would  affect,  in  the  same  way  that  ours  are,  the  minds 
of  others.  Paganism  understands  this  ;  and  it  is  the 
pomp  and  magnificence  of  her  ceremony,  the  richness 
of  the  temple  service,  the  grandeur  of  her  architecture, 
and  the  imposing  array  of  her  priests  in  their  robes, 
ministering  at  the  altars  or  passing  through  the  streets 
in  gorgeous  procession,  with  banners,  victims,  garlands, 
and  music,  by  which  the  populace  are  gained  and  kept. 
That  must  be  founded  on  just  principles,  men  say,  on 
which  the  great,  the  learned,  and  the  rich,  above  all  the 
State  itself,  are  so  prompt  to  lavish  so  much  splendor 
and  wealth.' 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N.  203 

•  But  here  is  a  great  danger,'  Probus  replied.  *  This, 
carried  too  far,  may  convert  religion  into  show  and  osten 
tation.  Form  and  ceremony,  and  all  that  is  merely  out 
ward  and  material,  may  take  the  place  of  the  moral. 
Religion  may  come  to  be  a  thing  apart  by  itself,  a  great 
act,  a  tremendous  and  awful  rite,  a  magnificent  and  im 
posing  ceremony,  instead  of  what  it  is  in  itself,  simply  a 
principle  of  right  action  toward  man  and  toward  God. 
This  is  at  present  just  the  character  and  position  of  the 
Roman  religion.  It  is  a  thing  that  is  to  be  seen  at  the 
temples,  but  nowhere  else  ;  it  is  a  worship  through  sac 
rifices  and  prayers,  and  that  is  all.  The  worshipper  at 
the  temple  may  be  a  tyrant  at  home,  a  profligate  in  the 
city,  a  bad  man  everywhere,  and  yet  none  the  less  a  true 
worshipper.  May  God  save  the  religion  of  Christ  from 
such  corruption  !  Yet  is  the  beginning  to  be  discerned. 
A  decline  has  already  begun.  Rank  and  power  are  al 
ready  sought  with  an  insane  ambition,  even  by  ministers 
of  Christ.  They  are  seeking  to  transfer  to  Chris 
tianity  the  same  outward  splendor,  and  the  same  gilded 
trappings,  which,  in  the  rites  and  ceremonies  of  the 
popular  faith,  they  see  so  to  subdue  the  imagination, 
and  lead  men  captive.  Hence,  Piso  and  Demetrius, 
the  golden  chair  of  Felix,  and  his  robes  of  audience,  on 
which  there  is  more  gold,  as  I  believe,  than  would  gild 
all  these  cups  and  pitchers  ;  hence,  too,  the  finery  of  the 
table,  the  picture  behind  it,  and,  in  some  churches,  the 
statues  of  Christ,  of  Paul,  and  Peter.  These  golden 
vessels  for  the  supper  of  Christ's  love,  I  can  forgive  —  I 
can  welcome  them  —  but  in  the  rest  that  has  come,  and 
is  coming,  I  see  signs  of  danger.' 

4  But,  most  excellent  Probus,'  said  the    younger  De- 


204  a  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

inetrius,  '  I  like  not  to  hear  the  arts  assailed  and  repre 
sented  dangerous.  I  have  just  been  telling  Piso,  thai 
you  are  a  people  to  be  respected,  for  you  were  begin 
ning  to  honor  the  arts.  Yet  here  now  you  are  denoun 
cing  them.  But,  let  me  ask,  what  harm  could  it  do  any 
good  man  among  you,  to  come  and  look  at  this  figure  of 
Apollo,  or  a  statue  of  your  Paul  or  Peter,  as  you  name 
them  —  supposing  they  were  just  men  and  benefactors 
of  their  race  ?  ' 

1  There  ought  to  be  none,'  Probus  replied.  *  It  ought 
to  be  a  source  of  innocent  pleasure,  if  not  of  wholesome 
instruction,  to  gaze  upon  the  imitated  form  of  a  good 
man  —  of  a  reformer,  a  benefactor,  a  prophet.  But  man 
is  so  prone  to  religion,  —  it  is  an  honorable  instinct  — 
that  you  can  scarce  place  before  him  an  object  of  rev 
erence  but  he  will  straightway  worship  it.  What  were 
your  gods  but  once  men,  first  revered,  then  worshipped, 
and  now  their  stone  images  deemed  to  be  the  very  gods 
themselves  ?  Thus  the  original  idea  —  the  effect,  we 
may  believe,  of  an  early  revelation  —  of  one  supreme 
Deity  has  been  almost  lost  out  of  the  world.  Let  the 
figure  of  Christ  be  everywhere  set  before  the  people  in 
stone  or  metal,  and,  what  with  the  natural  tendency  of 
the  mind  to  idolatry,  and  the  force  of  example  in  the 
common  religion,  I  fear  it  would  not  be  long  before  he, 
whom  we  now  revere  as  a  prophet,  would  soon  be  wor 
shipped  as  a  god  ;  and  the  disciples  whom  you  have 
named,  in  like  manner,  would  no  longer  be  remembered 
with  gratitude  and  affection  as  those  who  devoted  their 
lives  to  the  service  of  their  fellow-men,  but  be  adored  as 
inferior  Deities,  like  your  Castor  and  Pollux.  I  can 
conceive  that,  in  the  lapse  of  ages,  men  shall  be  so  re- 


AURELIAN.  205 

deemed  from  the  gross  conceptions  that  now  inthmll 
them  concerning  both  God  and  his  worship,  and  so 
nourished  up  to  a  divine  strength  by  the  power  of  truth, 
they  shall  be  in  no  danger  from  such  sources  ;  but  shall 
reap  all  the  pleasure  and  advantage  which  can  be  deri 
ved  from  beautiful  forms  of  art  and  the  representation  of 
great  and  excellent  characters,  without  ever  dreaming 
that  any  other  than  the  infinite  and  invisible  Spirit  of 
the  universe  is  to  be  worshipped,  or  held  divine.  The 
religion  of  Christ  will  itself,  if  aught  can  do  it,  bring 
about  such  a  period.' 

'  That  then  will  be  the  time  for  artists  to  live,  next 
after  now,'  said  Demetrius  of  Palmyra.  '  In  the  mean 
time,  Probus,  if  Hellenism  should  decline  and  die,  and 
your  strict  faith  take  its  place,  art  will  decline  and  per 
ish.  We  live  chiefly  by  the  gods  and  their  worship.' 

*  If  our  religion,'  replied  Probus,  '  should  suffer  injury 
from  its  own  professors,  in  the  way  it  has,  for  a  century 
or  two  more,  it  will  give  occupation   enough    to    artists. 
Its  corruptions  will  do  the  same  for  you  that   the    reign 
of  absolute  and  perfect  truth  would.' 

*  The  gods  then  grant  that  the   corruptions  you  speak 
of  may  come  in  season,  before  I  die.     I  am  tired  of  Ju- 
piters,  Mercurys,  aod  Apollos.     I  have  a  great  fancy  to 
make  a  statue  of  Christ.     Brother  !  what    think   you, 
should  I  reach    it  ?     Most   excellent    Probus,  should  I 
make  you  such  an  one  for  your  private  apartments  I  do 
not  believe  you  would  worship  it,  and  doubtless  it  would 
afford  you  pleasure.     If  you  will  leave  a  commission  for 
such  awork,  it  shall  be  set  about  so  soon  as  this  god  of  the 
Emperor's  is  safe  on  his  pedestal.     What  think  you  ?' 

18          VOL.  i. 


206  AURELIAN. 

•  I  should  judge  you  took  me,  Demetrius,  for  the  priest 
of  a  temple,  or  a  noble  of  the  land.     The  price  of  such 
a  piece  of  sculpture  would  swallow  up  more  than  all  I 
am  worth.     Besides,  though  I  might  not    worship  my 
self —  though  I  say  not  but  I  might  —  I  should  give  an 
ill  example  to  others,  who,  if  they  furnished  themselves 
or  their  churches  with  similar   forms,  might   not  have 
power   over  themselves,    but  relapse  into    the  idolatry 
from  which  they  are  but  just  escaped.' 

1  All  religions,  as  to  their  doctrine  and  precept,  are 
alike  to  me,'  replied  Demetrius, '  only,  as  a  general  prin 
ciple,  J  should  ever  prefer  that  which  has  the  most 
gods.  Rome  shows  excellent  judgment  in  adopting  all 
the  gods  of  the  earth,  so  that  if  the  worship  of  one  god 
will  not  bring  prosperity  to  the  nation,  there  are  others 
in  plenty  to  try  their  fortune  with  again.  Never  doubt, 
brother,  that  it  is  because  you  Christians  have  no  gods, 
that  the  populace  and  others  are  so  hostile  to  you.  Only 
set  up  a  few  images  of  Christ,  and  some  of  the  other 
founders  of  the  religion,  and  your  peace  will  be  made. 
Otherwise  I  fear  this  man-killer  will,  like  some  vulture, 
pounce  upon  you  and  tear  you  piecemeal.  What, 
brother,  have  you  learned  of  Aurelia  ? ' 

*  Nothing  with  certainty.     I  could  find  only  a  confir 
mation  from  every  mouth,  but   based    on    no    certain 
knowledge,  of  the   rumor  that  reached  us  early  in  the 
morning.     But  what  is  so  universally  reported,  generally 
turns   out   true.     I   should,  however,  if  I  believed  the 
fact  of  her  imprisonment,  doubt  the  cause.     I  said  that 
I  could  conceive  of  no  other  cause,   and  feared  that  it 
the  fact  were  so,  the  religion  of  Aurelian  was  the  reason 
of  her  being  so  dealt  with.     It  was  like  Aurelian,  if  be 


AURELTAN.  207 

had  resolved  upon  oppressing  the  Christians  to  any  ex 
tent  whatever,  that  he  should  begin  with  those  who 
were  nearest  to  him  ;  first  with  his  own  blood,  and  then 
with  those  of  his  household.' 

With  this,  and  such  like  conversation,  I  passed  a 
pleasant  hour  at  the  rooms  of  Demetrius. 

My  wish  was,  as  I  turned  from  the  apartments  of  De 
metrius,  to  seek  the  Emperor  or  Livia,  and  learn  from 
them  the  exact  truth  concerning  the  reports  current 
through  the  city.  But,  giving  way  to  that  weakness 
which  defers  to  the  latest  possible  moment  the  confirma 
tion  of  painful  news,  and  the  resolution  of  doubts  which 
one  would  rather  should  remain  as  doubts  than  be  de 
termined  the  wrong  way,  in  melancholy  mood,  I  turned 
and  retraced  my  steps.  My  melancholy  was  changed  to 
serious  apprehension  by  all  that  I  observed  and  heard 
on  my  way  to  the  Coslian.  As  the  crowd  in  this  great 
avenue,  the  Suburra,  pressed  by  me,  it  was  easy  to 
gather  that  the  Christians  had  become  the  universal 
topic  of  conversation  and  dispute.  The  name  of  the 
unhappy  Aurelia  frequently  caught  my  ear.  Threaten 
ing  and  ferocious  language  dropt  from  many,  who  seemed 
glad  that  at  length  an  Emperor  had  arisen  who  would 
prove  faithful  to  the  institutions  of  the  country.  I  joined 
a  little  group  of  gazers  before  the  window  of  the  rooms 
of  Periander,  at  which  something  rare  and  beautiful  is 
always  to  be  seen,  who,  I  found,  were  looking  intently 
at  a  picture,  apparently  just  from  the  hands  of  the  artist, 
which  represented  Rome  under  the  form  of  a  beautiful 
woman — Livia  had  served  as  the  model — with  a  diadem 
upon  her  head,  and  the  badges  of  kingly  authority  in 


203  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

her  hands,  and  at  her  side  a  priest  of  the  Temple  of  Ju 
piter,  "  Greatest  and  Best",  in  whose  face  and  form 
might  plainly  be  traced  the  cruel  features  of  Pronto.  The 
world  was  around  them.  On  the  lowest  earth,  with 
dark  shadows  settling  over  them,  lay  scattered  and  bro 
ken,  in  dishonor  and  dust,  the  emblems  of  all  the  religions 
of  the  world,  their  temples  fallen  and  in  ruins.  Among 
them,  in  the  front  ground  of  the  picture,  was  the 
prostrate  cross,  shattered  as  if  dashed  from  the  church, 
whose  dilapidated  walls  and  wide-spread  fragments  bore 
testimony  not  so  much  to  the  wasting  power  of  time  as 
to  the  rude  hand  of  popular  violence  ;  while,  rearing 
themselves  up  into  a  higher  atmosphere,  the  temples  of 
the  gods  of  Rome  stood  beautiful  and  perfect,  bathed  in 
the  glowing  light  of  a  morning  sun.  The  allegory  was 
plain  and  obvious  enough.  There  was  little  attractive, 
save  the  wonderful  art  with  which  it  was  done.  This 
riveted  the  eye  ;  and  that  being  gained,  the  bitter  and 
triumphant  bigotry  of  the  ideas  set  forth  had  time  to 
make  its  way  into  the  heart  of  the  beholder,  and  help  to 
change  its  warm  blood  to  gall.  Who  but  must  be  won 
by  the  form  and  countenance  of  the  beautiful  Livia  ? 
and,  confounding  Rome  with  her,  be  inspired  with  a 
new  devotion  to  his  country,  and  its  religion,  and  its 
lovely  queen  ?  The  work  was  inflaming  and  insidious, 
as  it  was  beautiful.  This  was  seen  in  what  it  drew 
from  those  among  whom  I  stood. 

'  By  Jupiter  !'  said  one,  '  that  is  well  done.  They 
are  all  down,  who  can  deny  it  !  Those  are  ruins  not  to 
be  built  up  again.  Who,  I  wonder,  is  the  artist  ?  He 
must  be  a  Roman  to  the  last  drop  of  his  blood,  and  the 
east  hair  of  his  beard.' 


ATJRELIAN.  209 

*  His  name   is  Sporus,'  replied  his  companion,  '  as  I 
hear,  a  kinsman  of  Pronto,  the  priest  of  Apollo.' 

'  Ah,  that's  the  reason  the  priest  figures  here,'  cried 
the  first,  '  and  the  Empress  too;  for  they  say  nobody  is 
more  at  the  Gardens  than  Fronto.  Well,  he's  just  the 
man  for  his  place.  If  any  man  can  bring  up  the  tem 
ples  again,  it's  he.  Religion  is  no  sham  at  the  Temple 
of  the  Sun.  The  priests  are  all  what  they  pretend  to 
be.  Let  others  do  so,  and  we  shall  have  as  much  rea 
son  to  thank  the  Emperor  for  what  he  has  done  for  the 
gods — and  so  for  us  all  —  as  for  what  he  has  done  for 
the  army,  the  empire,  and  the  city.' 

*  You  say  well,'  rejoined  the  other.     '  He  is  for  once 
a  man,  who,  if  he  will,  may  make  Rome   what  she  was 
before  the  empire,  a  people  that  honored  the  gods.     And 
this  picture  seems  as  if  it  spoke  out  his  very  plans,  and 
I  should  not  wonder  if  it  were  so.' 

*  Never  doubt  it.     See,  here  lies  a  Temple  of  Isis 
flat   enough  ;    next  to   it  one  of  the  accursed  tribe  of 
Jews.     And  what  ruder  pile  is  that  ?' 

'  That  must  be  a  Temple  of  the  British  worship,  as  I 
think.  But  the  best  of  all,  is  this  Christian  church  : 
see  how  the  wretches  fly,  while  the  work  goes  on !  In 
my  notion,  this  paints  *vhat  we  may  soon  see.' 

*  I  believe  it !  The  gods  grant  it  so  !   Old  men,  in  my 
judgment,  will  live  to  see  it  all  acted  out.     Do  you  hear 
what  is  said  ?    That  Aurelian  has  put  to  death  his  own 
niece,  the  princess  Aurelia  ?' 

*  That's  likely   enough,'  said   another.  '  no  one  can 
doubt  it.     'Tis  easy  news  to  believe  in  Rome.     But  the 
question  is    what  for  ?' 

18*  VOL.  I. 


210  AURELIAN. 

'  For  what  else  but  for  her  impiety,  and  her  aim&  to 
convert  Mucapor  to  her  own  ways.' 

*  Well,  there  is  no  telling,  and  it's  no  great  matter  ; 
time  will  show.     Meanwhile,  Aurelian  forever  !    He's 
the  man  for  me  !' 

*  Truly  is  he,'  said  one  at  his  side,  who  had  not  spo 
ken  before,  '  for  thy  life  is  spent  at  the  amphitheatres, 
and  he  is  a  good  caterer  for  thee,  sending  in  ample  sup 
plies  of  lions  and  men.' 

'  Whew  !  who  is  here  ?  Take  care  !  Your  tongue, 
old  man,  has  short  space  to  wag  in.' 

'  I  am  no  Christian,  knave,  but  I  trust  I  am  a  man  : 
and  that  is  more  than  any  can  say  of  you,  that  know 
you.  Out  upon  you  for  a  savage  !' 

The  little  crowd  burst  into  loud  laughter  at  this,  and 
with  various  abusive  epithets  moved  away.  The  old 
man  addressed  himself  to  me,  who  alone  remained  as 
they  withdrew, — 

'  Aurelian,  I  believe,  would  do  well  enough  were  he 
let  alone.  He  is  inclined  to  cruelty,  I  know  :  but  no 
body  can  deny  that,  cruel  or  not,  he  has  wrought  most 
beneficial  changes  both  in  the  army  and  in  the  city.  He 
has  been  in  some  sort,  up  to  within  the  last  half  year,  a 
censor,  greater  than  Valerian  ;  a  ^reformer,  greater  and 
better  than  even  he.  Had  he  not  been  crazed  by  his 
successes  in  the  East,  and  were  he  not  now  led,  and 
driven,  and  maddened,  by  the  whole  priesthood  of  Kotne, 
with  the  hell-born  Fronto  at  their  head,  we  might  look 
for  a  new  and  a  better  Rome.  But,  as  it  is,  I  fear  these 
young  savages,  who  are  just  gone,  will  see  all  fulfilled 
they  are  praying  for.  A  fair  day  to  you.' 

And  he  too  turned  away.     Others  were  come  into  the 


AURELIAN.  211 

«ame  spot,  and  for  a  long  time  did  I  listen  lo  similar 
language.  Many  came,  looked,  said  nothing,  and  took 
their  way,  with  paler  face,  and  head  depressed,  silent 
under  the  imprecations  heaped  upon  the  atheists,  but 
manifestly  either  of  their  side  in  sympathy,  or  else  of 
the  very  atheists  themselves. 

I  now  sought  my  home,  tired  of  the  streets,  and  of  all 
I  had  seen  and  heard.  Many  of  my  acquaintance,  and 
friends  passed  me  on  the  way,  in  whose  altered  manner 
I  could  behold  the  same  signs  which,  in  ruder  form,  I 
had  just  seen  at  the  window  of  Periander.  Not,  Faus- 
ta,  that  all  my  friends  of  the  Roman  faith  are  summer 
ones,  but  that,  perhaps,  most  are.  Many  among  them, 
though  attached  firmly  as  my  mother  to  the  existing  in 
stitutions,  are  yet,  like  her,  possessed  of  the  common 
sentiments  of  humanity,  and  would  venture  much  or  all 
to  divert  the  merest  shadow  of  harm  from  my  head. 
Among  these,  I  still  pass  some  of  my  pleasantest  and 
most  instructive  hours — for  with  them  the  various  ques 
tions  involved  in  the  whole  subject  of  religion,  are  dis 
cussed  with  the  most  perfect  freedom  and  mutual  confi 
dence.  Varus,  the  prefect,  whom  I  met  among  others, 
greeted  me  with  unchanged  courtesy.  His  sweetest 
smile  was  on  his  countenance  as  he  swept  by  me,  wish 
ing  me  a  happy  day.  How  much  more  tolerable  is  the 
rude  aversion,  or  loud  reproaches  of  those  I  have  told 
you  of,  than  this  honied  suavity,  that  means  nothing, 
and  would  be  still  the  same  though  I  were  on  the  way 
to  the  block. 

As  I  entered  my  library,  Solon  accosted  me,  to  say, 
that  there  had  been  one  lately  there  most  urgent  to  see 
me.  From  his  account,  I  could  suppose  it  to  be  none 


212  AURELIAN. 

other  than  the  Jew  Isaac,  who,  Milo  has  informed  me, 
is  now  returned  to  Rome,  which-  he  resorts  to  as  his 
most  permanent  home.  Solon  said  that,  though  assured 
I  was  not  at  home,  he  would  not  be  kept  back,  but  pres 
sed  on  into  the  house,  saying  that  '  these  Roman  nobles 
often  sat  quietly  in  their  grand  halls,  while  they  were 
denied  to  their  poor  clients.  Piso  was  an  old  acquaint 
ance  of  his  when  in  Palmyra,  and  he  had  somewhat 
of  moment  to  communicate  to  him,  and  must  see  him.' 
'  No  sooner,'  said  Solon,  '  had  he  got  into  the  library, 
the  like  of  which,!  may  safely  affirm, he  had  never  seen 
before,  for  his  raiment  betokened  a  poor  and  ragged  life, 
than  he  stood,  and  gazed  as  much  at  his  ease  as  if  it  had 
been  his  own,  and  then,  by  Hercules  !  unbuttoning  his 
pack,  for  he  was  burdened  with  one  both  before  and  be 
hind,  he  threw  his  old  limbs  upon  a  couch,  and  began  to 
survey  the  room  !  I  could  not  but  ask  him,  If  he  were 
the  elder  Piso,  old  Cneius  Piso,  come  back  from  Persia, 
in  Persian  beard  and  gown  ? — *  Old  man,'  said  he,  '  your 
brain  is  turned  with  many  books,  and  the  narrow  life 
you  lead  here,  shut  out  from  the  living  world  of  man. 
One  man  is  worth  all  the  books  ever  writ,  save  those  of 
Moses.  Go  out  into  the  streets  and  read  him,  and  your 
senses  will  come  again.  Cneius  Piso  !  Take  you  me 
for  a  spirit  ?  I  am  Isaac  the  Jew,  citizen  of  the  world, 
and  dealer  in  more  rarities  and  valuables  than  you  ever 
saw  or  dreamed  of.  Shall  I  open  my  parcels  for  thee  ?' 
No,  said  I,  I  would  not  take  thy  poor  gewgaws  for  a 
gift.  One  worm-eaten  book  is  worth  them  all.  —  '  God 
restore  thy  reason  !'  said  he,  '  and  give  thee  wisdom  be 
fore  thou  diest  ;  and  that,  by  thy  wrinkles  and  hairless 
pate  must  be  soon.'  What  more  of  false  he  would 


AUR  E  LI  AN  .  213 

have  added  I  know  not,  for  at  that  moment  he  sprang 
from  where  he  sat  like  one  suddenly  mad,  exclaiming, 
'  Holy  Abraham  !  what  do  my  eyes  behold,  or  do  they 
lie  ?  Surely  that  is  Moses !  Never  was  he  on  Sinai,  if 
his  image  be  not  here  !  Happy  Piso  !  and  happy  Isaac 
to  be  the  instrument  of  such  grace  !  Who  could  have 
thought  it  ?  And  yet  many  a  time,  in  my  dreams,  have 
I  beheld  him,  with  a  beard  like  mine,  his  hat  on  his 
head,  his  staff  in  his  hand,  as  if  standing  at  the  table  of 
the  Passover,  the  princess  with  him,  and  —  dreams  will 
do  such  things  —  a  brood  of  little  chickens  at  their  side. 
And  now  —  save  the  last  —  it  is  all  come  to  pass.  And 
here,  too,  who  may  this  be  ?  who,  but  Aaron,  the 
younger  and  milder  !  He  was  the  speaker,  and  lo  !  his 
hand  is  stretched  out  !  And  this  young  Joseph  is  at 
his  knee  the  better  to  interpret  his  character  to  the  be 
holder.  Moses  and  Aaron  in  the  chief  room  of  a  Ro 
man  senator,  and  he,  a  Piso  !  Now,  Isaac,  thou  mayest 
tie  on  thy  pack,  and  take  thy  leave  with  a  merry  heart, 
for  God,  if  never  before,  now  accepteth  thy  works.'  And 
much  more,  noble  sir,  in  the  same  raving  way,  which 
was  more  dark  to  my  understanding  than  the  darkest 
pages  of  Aristotle.' 

I  gathered  from  Solon,  that  he  would  return  in  the 
evening  in  the  hope  to  see  me,  for  he  had  that  to  im 
part  which  concerned  nearly  my  welfare. 

I  was  watching  with  Julia,  from  the  portico  which 
fronts  the  Esquiline  and  overlooks  the  city,  the  last  rays 
of  the  declining  sun,  as  they  gilded  the  roofs  and  domes 
of  the  vast  sea  of  building  before  us,  lingering  last  upon, 
and  turning  to  gold  the  brazen  statues  of  Antonine  and 


214  AUREL1AN. 

of  Trajan,  when  Milo  approached  us,  saying  that  Isaac 
had  returned.  He  was  in  a  moment  more  with  us. 

1  Most  noble  Piso,'  said  he,  «  I  joy  to  see  thee  again  ; 
and  this  morning,  I  doubt  not,  I  should  have  seen  thee, 
but  for  the  obstinacy  of  an  ancient  man,  whose  wits 
seem  to  have  been  left  behind  as  he  has  gone  onward. 
I  seek  thee,  Piso,  for  matters  of  moment.  Great  prin 
cess,'  he  suddenly  cried,  turning  to  Julia  with  as  pro 
found  a  reverence  as  his  double  burden  would  allow, 
'  glad  am  I  to  greet  thee  in  Rome  ;  not  glad  that  thou 
wert  forced  to  flee  here,  but  glad,  that  if,  out  of  Pal 
myra,  thou  art  here  in  the  heart  of  all  that  can  best 
minister  to  thy  wants.  Not  a  wish  can  arise  in  the 
heart  but  Rome  can  answer  it.  Nay,  thou  canst  have 
few  for  that  which  is  rare  and  costly,  but  even  I  can  an 
swer  them.  Hast  thou  ever  seen,  princess,  those  dia 
monds  brought  from  the  caves  of  mountains  a  thousand 
miles  in  the  heart  of  India,  in  which  there  lurks  a  tint, 
if  I  may  so  name  it,  like  this  last  blush  of  the  western 
sky  ?  They  are  rarer  than  humanity  in  a  Roman,  or 
apostacy  in  a  Jew,  or  truth  in  a  Christian.  I  shall 
show  thee  one.'  And  he  fell  to  unlacing  his  pack,  and 
drawing  forth  its  treasures. 

Julia  assured  him,  she  should  see  with  pleasure  what 
ever  he  could  show  her  of  rich  or  rare. 

*  There  are,  lady,  jewelers,  as  they  name  themselves 
in  Rome,  who  dwell  in  magnificent  houses,  and  whose 
shops  are  half  the  length  of  a  street,  who  cannot  show 
you  what  Isaac  can  out  of  an  old  goatskin  pack.  And 
how  should  they  ?  Have  they,  as  I  have,  traveled  the 
earth's  surface  and  trafficked  between  crown  and  crown  ? 
What  king  is  there,  whose  necessities  I  have  not  reiiev- 


AU  RE  L  I  AN. 

ed  by  purchasing  his  rarest  gems  ;  or  whose  vanity  I 
nave  not  pleased  by  selling  him  the  spoils  of  another  ? 
Old  Sapor,  proud  as  he  was,  was  more  than  once  in 
the  grasp  of  Isaac.  There  !  it  is  in  this  case  —  down, 
you  see,  in  the  most  secret  part  of  my  pack  —  but 
who  would  look  for  wealth  under  this  sordid  covering  ? 
as  who,  lady,  for  a  soul  within  this  shriveled  and  shat 
tered  body  ?  yet  is  there  one  there.  In  such  outside, 
both  of  body  and  bag,  is  my  safety.  Who  cares  to  stop 
the  poor  man,  or  hold  parley  with  him  ?  None  so  free 
of  the  world  and  its  high  ways  as  he  ;  safe  alike  in  the 
streets  of  Rome,  and  on  the  deserts  of  Arabia.  His  rags 
are  a  shield  stouter  than  one  of  seven-fold  bull's  hide. 
Never  but  in  such  guise  could  I  bear  such  jewels 
over  the  earth's  surface.  Here,  lady,  is  the  gem  ;  never 
has  it  yet  pressed  the  finger  of  queen  or  subject.  The 
stone  1  brought  from  the  East,  and  Demetrius,  here  in 
Rome,  hath  added  the  gold.  Give  me  so  much  pleas 
ure — ' 

And  he  placed  it  upon  Julia's  finger.  It  flashed  a 
light  such  as  we  never  before  saw  in  stone.  It  was 
evidently  a  most  rare  and  costly  gem.  It  was  of  great 
size  and  of  a  hue  such  as  I  had  never  before  seen. 

*  This  is  a  queen's  ring,  Isaac,'  said  Julia  — '  and  for 
none  else.' 

4  It  well  becomes  the  daughter  of  a  queen  '  —  replied 
the  Jew,  *  and  the  wife  of  Piso  —  specially  seeing  that 
—  Ah,  Piso  !  Piso  !  how  was  I  overjoyed  to-day  to  see 
in  thy  room  the  evidence  that  my  counsels  had  not  been 
thrown  away.  The  Christian  did  not  gain  thee  with 
all  his  cunning — ' 

Nay,  Isaac '  —  I  here  interrupted  him  —  *  you  must 


216  AURELIAN. 

not  let  your  benevolent  wishes  lead  you  into  error.  I 
am  not  yet  a  Jew.  Those  i'mages  that  caught  your  eye 
were  not  wholly  such  as  you  took  them  for.' 

'  Well,  well,'  said  the  philosophic  Jew,  «  rumor  then 
has  for  once  spoken  the  truth.  She  has  long,  as  I  learn, 
reported  thee  Christian  :  but  I  believed  it  not.  And  to 
day,  when  I  looked  upon  those  statues,  I  pleased  myself 
with  the  thought  that  thou,  and  the  princess,  like  her 
august  mother,  had  joined  themselves  to  Israel.  But  if 
it  be  not  so,  then  have  I  an  errand  for  thee,  which,  but 
now,  I  hoped  I  might  not  be  bound  to  deliver.  Piso, 
there  is  danger  brewing  for  thee,  and  for  all  who  hold 
with  thee  ! ' 

1  So  I  hear,  Isaac,  on  all  sides,  and  partly  believe  it. 
But  the  rumor  is  far  beyond  the  truth,  I  do  not  doubt.' 

*  I  think  not  so,'  said  Isaac.     '  I  believe    the    truth  is 
beyond  the  rumor.     Aurelian  intends  more    and   worse 
than  he  has  spoken  ;    and  already  has  he  dipt  his  hand 
in  blood  ! ' 

*  What  say  you  ?  how  is  it  you  mean  ?'  said  Julia. 

4  Whose  name  but  Aurelia's  has  been  in  the  city's 
ears  these  many  days  ?  I  can  tell  you,  what  is  known 
as  yet  not  beyond  the  Emperor's  palace  and  the 
priest's,  Aurelia  is  dead  ! ' 

'  Sport  not  with  us,  Isaac  ! ' 

'  I  tell  you,  Piso,  the  simple  truth.  Aurelia  has  paid 
with  her  life  for  her  faith.  I  know  it  from  more  than 
one  whose  knowledge  in  the  matter  is  good  as  sight. 
It  was  in  the  dungeons  of  the  Fabrician  bridge,  that  she 
was  dealt  with  by  Pronto  the  priest  of  Apollo.' 

*  Aurelian  then,'  said  Julia,  *  has  thrust  his  sickle  into 
another  field  of  slaughter,  and  will  not  draw  it  out  till 


ATTRELIAN.  217 

he  swims  in  Christian  blood,  as  once  before  in  Syrian. 
God  help  these  poor  souls  '  What,  Isaac,  was  the  man 
ner  of  her  death,  if  you  have  heard  so  much  ?  ' 

'  I  have  heard  only,'  replied  Isaac,  *  that,  after  long 
endeavor  on  the  part  of  Aurelian  and  the  priest  to  draw 
her  from  her  faith  while  yet  at  the  palace,  she  was  con 
veyed  to  the  prisons  I  have  named,  and  there  given  over 
to  Pronto  and  the  executioners,  with  this  only  restric 
tion,  that  if  neither  threats,  nor  persuasions,  nor  the  hor 
rid  array  of  engines,  could  bend  her,  then  should  she  be 
beheaded  without  either  scourging  or  torture.  And  so 
it  was  done.  She  wept,  't  is  said,  as  it  were  without 
ceasing,  from  the  time  she  left  the  gardens ;  but  to  the 
priest  would  answer  never  a  word  to  all  his  threats, 
entreaties,  or  promises ;  except  once,  when  that  wicked 
minister  said  to  her,  *  that  except  she  in  reality  and  truth 
would  curse  Christ  and  sacrifice,  he  would  report  that 
she  had  done  so,  and  so  liberate  her  and  return  her  to 
the  palace  : '  —  at  which,  't  is  said,  that  on  the  instant 
her  tears  ceased,  her  eyes  flashed  lightning,  and  with  a 
voice,  which  took  the  terrific  tones  of  Aurelian  himself, 
she  said,  '  I  dare  thee  to  it,  base  priest !  Aurelian  is  an 
honorable  man  —  though  cruel  as  the  grave  —  and  my 
simple  word,  which  never  yet  he  doubted,  would  weigh 
more  than  oaths  from  thee,  though  piled  to  heaven  ! 
Do  thy  worst  then,  quick  ! '  Whereupon  the  priest,  white 
with  wrath,  first  sprang  toward  her  as  if  he  had  been  a 
beast  set  to  devour  her,  drawing  at  the  same  moment  a 
knife  from  his  robes  ;  but,  others  being  there,  he  stopped, 
and  cried  to  the  executioner  to  do  his  work  —  raving 
19  VOL.  i. 


218  AURELIAN. 

that  he  had  it  not  in  his  power  first  to  torment  her. 
Aurelia  was  then  instantly  beheaded.' 

We  were  silent  as  he  ended,  Julia  dissolved  in  tears 
Isaac  went  on. 

'  This  is  great  testimony,  Piso,  which  is  borne  to  thy 
faith.  A  poor,  weak  girl,  alone,  with  not  one  to.  look 
on  and  encourage,  in  such  a  place,  and  in  the  clutches 
of  such  a  hard-hearted  wretch,  to  die  without  once 
yielding  to  her  fears  or  the  weakness  of  her  tender  na 
ture  —  it  is  a  thing  hardly  to  be  believed,  and  full  of  pity. 
Piso,  thou  wilt  despise  me  when  I  say  that  my  tribe  re 
joices  at  this,  and  laughs;  that  the  Jew  is  seen  carrying 
the  news  from  house  to  house,  and  secretly  feeding  on 
it  as  a  sweet  morsel !  And  why  should  he  not  ?  An 
swer  me  that,  Roman  !  Answer  me  that,  Christian  ! 
In  thee,  Piso,  and  in  every  Roman  like  thee,  there  is 
compacted  into  one  the  enmity  that  has  both  desolated 
my  country,  and —  far  as  mortal  arm  may  do  so  — 
dragged  down  to  the  earth,  her  altars  and  her  worship. 
Judea  was  once  happy  in  her  ancient  faith  ;  and  hap 
pier  than  all  in  that  great  hope  inspired  by  our  prophets 
in  endless  line,  of  the  advent,  in  the  opening  ages,  of  one 
who  should  redeem  our  land  from  the  oppressor,  and 
give  to  her  the  empire  of  the  world.  Messiah,  for  whom 
we  waited,  and  while  we  waited  were  content  to  bear 
the  insults  and  aggressions  of  the  whole  earth  —  know 
ing  the  day  of  vengeance  was  not  far  off —  was  to  be  to 
Judea  more  than  Aurelian  to  Rome.  He  was  to  be  our 
prophet,  our  priest,  and  our  king,  all  in  one  ;  not  man 
only,  but  the  favored  and  beloved  of  God,  his  Son  ;  and 
his  empire  was  not  to  be  like  this  of  Rome,  hemmed  in 
by  this  sea  and  that,  hedged  about  by  barbarians;  on  one 


AURELIAN.  210 

side  and  another,  bounded  by  rivers  and  hills,  but  was 
to  stretch  over  the  habitable  earth,  and  Rome  itself  to  be 
swallowed  up  in  the  great  possession  as  a  little  island 
in  the  sea.  And  then  this  great  kingdom  was  never  to 
end.  It  could  not  be  diminished  by  an  enemy  taking 
from  it  this  province  and  another,  as  with  Rome,  nor 
could  there  be  out  of  it  any  power  whatever  that  could 
assail  it ;  for,  by  the  interference  of  God,  through  the 
right  arm  of  our  great  Prince,  fear,  and  the  very  spirit  of 
submission,  were  to  fall  on  every  heart.  All  was  to  be 
Judea's,  and  Judea's  forever ;  the  kingdom  was  to  be 
over  the  whole  earth  ;  and  the  reign  forever  and  ever. 
And  in  those  ages  peace  was  to  be  on  the  earth,  and 
universal  love.  God  was  to  be  worshipped  by  all  ac 
cording  to  our  law,  and  idolatry  and  error  to  cease  and 
come  to  an  end.  In  this  hope,  I  say,  we  were  happy, 
in  spite  of  all  our  vexations.  In  every  heart  in  our 
land,  whatever  sorrows  or  sufferings  might  betide,  there 
was  a  little  corner  where  the  spirit  could  retire  and  com 
fort  itself  with  this  vision  of  futurity.  Among  all  the 
cities  of  our  land,  and  far  away  among  the  rocks  and  val- 
lies  by  Jordan  and  the  salt  sea,  and  the  mountains  of  Leba 
non,  there  were  no  others  to  be  found  than  men,  women, 
and  children,  happy  in  this  belief,  and  by  it  bound  into 
one  band  of  lovers  and  friends.  And  what  think  you  hap- 
penei  ?  I  need  not  tell  you.  There  came,  as  thou 
knowest,  this  false  prophet  of  Gallilee,  and  beguiled  the 
people  with  his  smooth  words,  and  perverted  the  sense 
of  the  prophets,  and  sowed  difference  and  discord  among 
the  people  ;  and  the  cherished  vision,  upon  which  the 
nation  had  lived  and  grown,  fled  like  a  dream.  The 
Gallilean  impostor  planted  himself  upon  the  soil,  and  his 


220 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N. 


roots  of  poison  struck  down,  and  his  broad  limbs  shot, 
abroad,  and  half  the  nation  was  lost.  Its  unity  was 
gone,  its  peace  lost,  its  heart  broken,  its  hope,  though 
living  still,  yet  obscured  and  perplexed.  Canst  thou 
wonder  then  Piso,  or  thou,  thou  weeping  princess,  that 
the  Jew  stands  by  and  laughs  when  the  Christian's  turn 
comes,  and  the  oppressor  is  oppressed,  the  destroyer 
destroyed  ?  And  when,  Piso,  the  Christian  had  done 
his  worst,  despoiling  us  of  our  faith,  our  hope,  our  prince, 
and  our  God  ;  not  satisfied,  he  brought  the  Roman  upon 
us,  and  despoiled  us  of  our  country  itself.  Now,  and 
for  two  centuries,  all  is  gone.  Judea,  the  beauti 
ful  land,  sits  solitary  and  sad.  Her  sons  and  daughters 
wanderers  over  the  earth,  and  trodden  into  the  dust. 
When  shall  the  light  arise  !  and  he,  whom  we  yet  look 
for,  come  and  turn  back  the  flood  that  has  swept  over 
us,  and  reverse  the  fortunes  befallen  to  one  and  the 
other  ?  The  chariot  of  God  tarries ;  but  it  does  not 
halt.  The  wheels  are  turning,  and  when  it  is  not 
thought  of,  it  will  come  rolling  onward  with  the  voice  of 
many  thunders,  and  the  great  restoration  shall  be  made, 
and  a  just  judgment  be  meted  out  to  all.  What  won 
der,  I  say  then,  Piso,  if  my  people  look  on  and  laugh, 
when  this  double  enemy  is  in  straits  ?  when  the  Chris 
tian  and  Roman  in  one,  is  caught  in  the  snare  and  can 
not  escape  ?  That  laugh  will  ring  through  the  streets 
of  Rome,  and  will  out-sound  the  roaring  of  the  lions  and 
the  shouts  of  the  theatre.  Nature  is  strong  in  man, 
Piso,  and  I  do  not  believe  thou  wilt  think  the  worse  of 
our  people,  if  bearing  what  they  have,  this  nature  should 
break  forth.  Hate  them  not  altogether,  Roman,  when 
thou  shalt  see  them  busy  at  the  engines  or  the  stake,  or 


A  V  RE  LI  AN  .  221 

the  theatres.  Remember  the  cause  !  Remember  the 
cause  !  But  we  are  not  all  such.  I  wish,  Piso,  thou 
couldst  abandon  this  faith.  There  will  else  be  no  safety 
to  thee,  I  fear,  ere  not  many  days.  What  has  overtaken 
the  lady  Aurelia,  of  the  very  family  of  the  Emperor,  will 
surely  overtake  others.  Piso,  I  would  fain  serve  thee,  if 
I  may.  Though  I  hate  the  Roman,  and  the  Christian, 
and  thee,  as  a  Jew,  yet  so  am  I,  that  I  cannot  hate  them 
as  a  man,  or  not  unto  death  ;  and  thee  do  I  love.  Now 
it  is  my  counsel,  that  thou  do  in  season  escape.  Now 
thou  canst  do  it ;  wait  but  a  few  days,  and,  perhaps,  thou 
canst  no  longer.  What  I  say  is,  fly  !  and,  it  were  best, 
to  the  farthest  east  ;  first,  to  Palmyra,  and  then,  if  need 
be,  to  Persia.  This,  Piso,  is  what  I  am  come  for.' 

I  Isaac,  this  all  agrees  with  the  same  goodness  — ' 

I 1  am  a  poor,  miserable  wretch,  whom  God  may  for 
give,  because  his  compassions  never   fail,  but  who  has 
no  claim  on  his  mercy,  and  will  be  content  to  sit  hereaf 
ter  where   he   shall   but  just   catch,  now   and   then,  a 
glimpse  of  the  righteous.' 

*  I  must  speak  my  thoughts,  not  yours,  Isaac.  This 
all  agrees  with  what  we  have  known  of  you  ;  and,  with 
all  our  hearts,  you  have  our  thanks.  But  we  are  bound 
to  this  place  by  ties  stronger  than  any  that  bind  us  to 
life,  and  must  not  depart.' 

1  Say  not  so  !  Lady,  speak  !  Why  should  ye  re 
main  to  add  to  the  number  that  must  fall  ?  Rank  will 
not  stand  in  the  way  of  Aurelian.' 

'  That  we  know  well,  Isaac,'  said  Julia.  «  We  should 
not  look  for  any  shield  such  as  that  to  protect  us,  nor 
for  any  other.  Life  is  not  the  chief  thing,  Isaac.  What 
19*  VOL.  i. 


222  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

is  life,  without  liberty  ?  Would  you  live,  a  slave  ?  and 
is  not  he  the  meanest  slave,  who  bends  his  will  to 
another  ?  who  renounces  the  thoughts  he  dearly  cher 
ishes  for  another's  humor  ?  Who  will  beggar  the  soul, 
to  save,  or  serve,  the  body  ?' 

*  Alas,  princess,  I  fear  there  is  more  courage  in  thee, 
woman  as  thou  art,  than  in  this  old  frame  !     I  love  my 
faith,  too,  princess,  and  I  labor  for  it  in  my  way  ;    but, 
may  the  God  of  Abraham  spare  me  the  last  trial  !     And 
wouldst  thou  give  up  thy  body   to  the  tormentors   and 
the  executioner,  to  keep  the  singleness  of  thy  mind,   so 
that  merely  a  few  little  thoughts,  which  no   man   can 
see,  may  run  in  and  out  of  it,  as  they  list  ? 

*  Even  so,  Isaac.' 

'  It  is  wonderful,'  exclaimed  the  Jew,  *  what  a  strength 
there  is  in  man  !  how,  for  an  opinion,  which  can  be 
neither  bought,  nor  sold,  nor  weighed,  nor  handled,  nor 
seen  —  a  thing,  that,  by  the  side  of  lands,  and  gold,  and 
houses,  seems  less  than  the  dust  of  the  balance  —  men 
and  women,  yea,  and  little  children,  will  suffer  and  die  ; 
when  a  word,  too,  which  is  but  a  little  breath  blown  out 
of  the  mouth,  would  save  them  ! ' 

*  But,  it  is  no  longer  wonderful,'  said  Julia,  '  when  we 
look  at  our  whole  selves,  and  not  only  at  one  part.     We 
are  all  double,  one  part,  of  earth,   another,  of  heaven  ; 
one  part,  gross  body,  the  other,  etherial  spirit ;  one  part, 
life  of  the  body,  the  other,  life  of  the  soul.     Which  of 
these  parts  is  the  better,  it  is  not  hard  to    determine. 
Should  I   gain  much  by  defiling  the  heavenly,  for  the 
sake  of    the    earthly  ?    by  injuring  the    mind,  for  the 
preservation  of  the  body  ;    by  keeping  longer  the  life  T 
live  now,  but  darkening  over  the  prospect  of  the  life  tha% 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  223 

is  hereafter  ?  If  I  possess  a  single  truth,  which  I  firmly 
believe  to  be  a  truth,  I  cannot  say  that  it  is  a  lie,  for  the 
sake  of  some  present  benefit  or  deliverance,  without  fix 
ing  a  stain  thereby,  not  on  the  body,  which  by  and  by 
perishes,  but  on  the  soul,  which  is  immortal  ;  and  which 
would  then  forever  bear  about  with  it  the  unsightly  spot.' 

*  It  is  so  ;  it  is  as  you  say,  lady  ;  and  rarely  has  the 
Jew  been  known  to  deny  his  name  and  his  faith.     Since 
you  have  spoken,  I  find  thoughts  called  up  which   have 
long    slept.     Despise  me  not,  for  my    proposal,   yet   I 
would  there  were  a  way  of  escape  !     Flight  now,  would 
not  be  denial,  or  apostacy.' 

'  It  would  not,'  said  Julia.  « And  we  may  not  judge  with 
harshness  those  whose  human  courage  fails  them  under 
the  apprehension  of  the  sufferings  which  often  await  the 
persecuted.  But,  with  my  convictions,  and  Piso's,  the 
guilt  and  baseness  of  flight  or  concealment  would  be 
little  less  than  that  of  denial  or  apostacy.  We  have 
chosen  this  religion  for  its  divine  truth,  and" its  immor 
tal  prospects  ;  we  believe  it  a  good  which  God  has  sent 
to  us  ;  we  believe  it  the  most  valuable  possession  we 
hold  ;  we  believe  it  essential  to  the  world's  improve 
ment  and  happiness.  Believing  it  thus,  we  must  stand 
by  it  ;  and,  if  it  come  to  this  —  as  I  trust  in  Heaven  it 
will  not,  notwithstanding  the  darkness  of  the  portents  — 
that  our  regard  for  it  will  be  questioned  except  we  die 
for  it  —  then  we  will  die.' 

Isaac  rose,  and  began  to  fasten  on  his  pack.  As  ha 
did  so,  he  said, 

*  Excellent    lady,    I  grieve    that    thou    shouldst    be 
brought  from  thy  far  home,  and  those  warm  and  sunny 
skies,  to  meet  the  rude  shocks  of   this  wintry  land.     It 


£24  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

was  enough  to  see  what  thou  didst  there,  and  to  know 
what  befell  thy  ancient  friends.  The  ways  of  Provi 
dence,  to  our  eyes,  are  darker  than  the  Egyptian  night, 
brought  upon  thai  land  by  the  hand  of  Moses.  It  is 
darkness  solid  and  impenetrable.  The  mole  sees  far 
ther  toward  the  earth's  centre,  than  does  my  dim  eye 
into  the  judgments  of  God.  And  what  wonder  ?  when 
he  is  God  looking  down  upon  earth  and  man's  ways  as 
I  upon  an  ant-hill,  and  seeing  all  at  once.  To  such 
an  eye,  lady,  that  may  be  best  which  to  mine  is  worst.' 

'  I  believe  it  is  often  so,  Isaac,'  replied  Julia.  '  Just 
as  in  nauseous  drugs  or  rankest  poisons  there  is  hid 
den  away  medicinal  virtue,  so  is  there  balm  for  the  soul, 
by  which  its  worst  diseases  are  healed  and  its  highest 
health  promoted,  in  sufferings,  which,  as  they  first  fall 
upon  us,  we  lament  as  unmitigated  evil.  I  know  of  no 
state  of  mind  so  proper  to  beings  like  us,  as  that  indi 
cated  by  a  saying  of  Christ,  which  I  shall  repeat  to  you, 
though  you  honor  not  its  source,  and  which  seems  to 
me  to  comprehend  all  religion  and  philosophy,  "  Not 
my  will,  but  thine,  0  God,  be  done  !"  We  never  take 
our  true  position,  and  so  never  can  be  contented  and 
happy,  till  we  renounce  our  own  will,  and  believe  all  the 
whole  providence  of  God  to  be  wisest  and  best,  simply 
because  it  is  his.  Should  I  dare,  were  the  power  this 
moment  given  me,  to  strike  out  for  myself  my  path 
in  life,  arrange  its  events,  fix  my  lot  ?  Not  the  most 
trivial  incident  can  be  named  that  I  should  not  tremble 
io  order  otherwise  than  as  it  happens.' 

*  There  is  wisdom,  princess,  in  the  maxim  of  thy 
prophet,  and  its  spirit  is  found  in  many  of  the  sayings 
of  truer  prophets  who  went  before  him,  whose  words 


AUR  ELIAN.  225 

are  familiar  to  thy  royal  mother,  though,  I  fear,  they 
are  not  to  thee  ;  a  misfortune,  wholly  to  be  traced  to 
that  misadventure  of  thine,  Piso,  in  being  thrown  into 
the  company  of  the  Christian  Probus  on  board  the  Med 
iterranean  trader.  Had  I  been  alone  with  thee  on  that 
voyage,  who  can  say  that  thou  wouldst  not  now  have 
been  what,  but  this  morning,  I  took  thee  for,  as  I  looked 
upon  those  marble  figures  ?  ' 

*  But,  Isaac,  forget  not  your  own  principles,'  said  Ju 
lia.  '  May  you,  who  cannot,  as  you  have  said,  see  the 
end  from  the  beginning,  and  whose  sight  is  but  a  mole's, 
dare  to  complain  of  the  providence  which  threw  Piso 
into  the  society  of  the  Christian  Probus  ?  I  am  sure  you 
would  not,  on  reflection,  re-arrange  those  events,  were 
it  now  permitted  you.  And  seeing,  Isaac,  how  much 
better  things  are  ordered  by  the  Deity  than  we  could  do 
it,  and  how  we  should  choose  voluntarily  to  surrender 
all  into  his  hands,  whose  wisdom  is  so  much  more 
perfect,  and  whose  power  is  so  much  more  vast,  than 
ours,  ought  we  not,  as  a  necessary  consequence  of 
this,  to  acquiesce  in  events  without  complaint,  when  they 
have  once  occurred  ?  If  Providence  had  made  both  Piso 
and  Probus  Christians,  then  ought  you  not  to  complain, 
but  acquiesce  ;  and,  more  than  that,  revere  the  Provi 
dence  that  has  done  it,  and  love  those  none  the  less 
whom  it  has  directed  into  the  path  in  which  it  would 
have  them  go.  True  piety,  is  the  mother  of  charity.' 

'  Princess,'  rejoined  Isaac,  *  you  are  right.  The  true 
love  of  God  cannot  exist,  without  making  us  true  lover* 
of  man  ;  and  Piso  I  do  love,  and  think  none  the  worse 
of  him  for  his  Chistian  name.  But,  touching  Probus, 
and  others,  I  experience  some  difficulty.  Yet  may  If 


226 


AURELIA  N. 


perhaps,  escape  thus  —  I  may  love  them  as  men,  yet 
hate  them  as  Christians  ;  just  as  I  would  bind  up  the 
wounds  of  a  thief  or  an  assassin,  whom  I  found  by  the 
wayside,  and  yet  the  next  hour  bear  witness  against 
him,  and  without  compunction  behold  him  swinging 
upon  the  gibbet  !  It  is  hard,  lady,  for  the  Jew  to  love  a 
Christian  and  a  Roman.  —  But  how  have  I  been  led 
away  from  what  I  wished  chiefly  to  say  before  depart 
ing  !  When  I  spake  just  now  of  the  darkness  of  Prov 
idence,  I  was  thinking,  Piso,  of  my  journey  across  the 
desert  for  thy  Persian  brother,  Calpurnius.  That,  as  I 
then  said  to  thee,  was  dark  to  me.  I  could  not  compre 
hend  how  it  should  come  to  pass  that  I,  a  Jew,  of  no 
less  zeal  than  Simon  Ben  Gorah  himself,  should  tempt 
such  dangers  in  the  service  of  thee,  a  Roman,  and  half 
a  Christian.' 

*  And  is  the  enigma  solved  at  length  ? '  asked  Julia. 
1 1  could  have  interpreted  it  by  saying  that  the  merit  of 
doing  a  benevolent  action  was  its  solution.' 

'  That  was  little  or  nothing,  princess.  But  I  confess 
to  thee,  that  the  two  gold  talents  of  Jerusalem  were 
much.  Still,  neither  they,  nor  what  profit  I  made  in 
the  streets  of  Ecbatana,  and  even  out  of  that  new  Solo 
mon  the  hospitable  Levi,  clearly  explained  the  riddle. 
I  have  been  in  darkness  till  of  late.  And  how,  think 
you,  the  darkness  has  been  dispersed  ? ' 

*  We  cannot  tell.' 

'  I  believe  not.  Piso  !  princess  !  I  am  the  hrppiest 
man  in  Rome.' 

*  Not  happier,  Isaac,  than  Civilis  the  perfumer. 
'Name  him  not,  Piso.     Of  all  the  men  —  he  is  no 

t\an  —  of   all    the   living  things  in  Rome  I  hold  him 


ATJRELIAN.  227 

meanest.  Him,  Piso,  I  hate.  Why,  I  will  not  tell  thee, 
but  thou  mayest  guess.  Nay,  not  now.  I  would  have 
thee  first  know  why  I  am  the  happiest  man  in  Rome. 
Remember  you  the  woman  and  the  child,  whom,  in  the 
midst  of  that  burning  desert,  we  found  sitting,  more  dead 
than  alive,  at  the  roots  of  a  cedar —  the  wife,  as  we  af 
terwards  found,  of  Hassan  the  camel-driver  —  and  how 
that  child,  the  living  resemblance  of  my  dead  Joseph, 
wound  itself  round  my  heart,  and  how  I  implored  the 
mother  to  trust  it  to  me  as  mine,  and  I  would  make  it 
richer  than  the  richest  of  Ecbatana  ? ' 

*  We  remember  it  all  well.' 

*  Well,  rejoice  with  me  !     Hassan  is  dead  !' 

c  Rejoice  in  her  husband's  death  ?  Nay,  that  we  can 
not  do.  Milo  will  rejoice  with  thee.' 

*  Rejoice  with  me,  then,  that   Hassan,  being  dead  by 
the  providence  of  God,  Hagar   and   Ishmael  are  now 
mine  j ' —  and  the  Jew  threw  down  his  pack  again  in  the 
excess  of  his  joy,  and  strode  wildly  about  the  portico. 

'  This  is  something  indeed,'  said  Julia.  '  Now,  we 
can  rejoice  sincerely  with  you.  But  how  happened  all 
this  ?  When,  and  how,  have  you  obtained  the  news  ? ' 

'  Hassan,'  replied  Isaac,  *  as  Providence  willed  it,  died 
in  Palmyra.  His  disconsolate  widow,  hearing  of  his 
death,  in  her  poverty  and  affliction  bethought  herself  of 
me,  and  applied,  for  intelligence  of  me,  to  Levi  ;  from 
whom  a  letter  came,  saying  that  Hagar  had  made  now 
on  her  part  the  proposal  that  had  once  been  made  on 
mine  —  that  Ishmael  should  be  mine,  provided,  he  was 
not  to  be  separated  from  his  mother  and  a  sister  older 
than  he  by  four  years.  I,  indeed,  proposed  not  for  the 
woman,  but  for  the  child  only  —  nor  for  the  sister.  But 


228  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

they  will  all  be  welcome.  They  must,  by  ihis,  be  in 
Palmyra  on  their  way  to  Rome.  Yes,  they  will  be  ali 
welcome  !  for  now  once  more  shall  the  pleasant  bonds 
of  a  home  hold  me,  and  the  sounds  of  children's  voices — 
sweeter  to  my  ear  than  will  ever  be  the  harps  of  angels 
though  Gabriel  sweep  the  strings.  Already,  in  the  street 
Janus,  where  our  tribe  most  resort,  have  I  purchased 
me  a  house  ;  not,  Roman,  such  a  one  as  I  dwelt  in  in 
Palmyra,  where  thou  and  thy  foolish  slave  searched  me 
out,  but  large  and  well-ordered,  abounding  with  all  that 
woman's  heart  could  most  desire.  And  now  what  think 
you  of  all  this  ?  whither  tends  it  ?  to  what  leads  all  this 
long  and  costly  preparation  ?  what  think  you  is  to  come 
of  it  ?  I  have  my  own  judgment.  This  I  know,  it  can 
not  be  all  for  this,  that  a  little  child  of  a  few  years  should 
come  and  dwell  with  an  old  man  little  removed  from 
the  very  borders  of  the  grave  !  Had  it  been  only  for 
this,  so  large  and  long  a  train  of  strange  and  wild  events 
would  not  have  been  laid.  This  child,  Piso,  is  more 
than  he  seems  !  take  that  and  treasure  it  up.  It  is  to 
this  the  finger  of  God  has  all  along  pointed.  He  is 
more  than  he  seems  !  What  he  will  be  I  say  not,  but  I 
can  dimly  —  nay  clearly  guess.  And  his  mother  !  Piso, 
what  will  you  think  when  I  say  that  she  is  a  Jewess  ! 
and  his  father  —  what  will  you  think  when  I  tell  you 
that  he  was  born  upon  the  banks  of  the  Gallilean  lake  ? 
— that  misfortunes  and  the  love  of  a  wandering  life  drew 
him  from  Judea  to  the  farther  East,  and  to  a  temporary, 
yet  but  apparent  apostacy,  I  am  persuaded,  from  his 
proper  faith  ?  This  to  me  is  all  wonderful.  Never 
have  I  doubted,  that  by  my  hand,  by  me  as  a  mediator, 
some  great  good  was  to  accrue  to  Jerusalem.  And  now 


AURELIAN.  229 

the  :louds  divide,  and  my  eye  sees  what  has  been  so 
long  concealed.  It  shall  all  come  to  pass,  before  thy 
young  frame,  princess,  shall  be  touched  by  years.' 

'  We  wish  you  all  happiness  and   joy,  Isaac,'  replied 
Julia  ;  '  and  soon  as  this  young  family  slull  have  reach 
ed  your  dwelling,  we  shall  trust  to  see  them  all,  specially 
this  young  object  of  thy  great  expectations.' 

Isaac  again  fastened  on  his  pack,  and  taking  leave  of 
us  turned  to  depart,  but  ere  he  did  so,  he  paused  —  fixed 
his  dark  eyes  upon  us  —  hesitated  —  and  then  said, 

'  Lady,  if  trouble  flow  in  upon  you  here  in  Rome,  and 
thou  wilt  not  fly,  as  I  have  counseled,  to  Palmyra  ;  but 
thou  shouldst  by  and  by  change  thy  mind  and  desire 
safety,  or  Piso  should  wish  thee  safe  —  perhaps,  that 
by  thy  life  thou  mightest  work  more  mightily  for  thy 
faith  than  thou  couldst  do  by  thy  death  —  for  often 
times  it  is  not  by  dying  that  we  best  serve  God,  or  a  great 
cause,  but  by  living — then,  bethink  thee  of  my  dwelling 
in  the  street  Janus,  where,  if  thou  shouldst  once  come,  I 
would  challenge  all  the  blood-hounds  in  Rome,  and  what 
is  more  and  worse,  Pronto  and  Varus  leagued,  to  find 
thee.  Peace  be  with  you.' 

And  so  saying,  he  quickly  parted  from  us. 

All  Rome,  Fausta,  holds  not  a  man  of  a  larger  heart 
than  Isaac  the  Jew.  For  us,  Christians  as  we  are, 
there  is  I  believe  no  evil  to  himself  he  would  not  haz 
ard,  if,  in  no  other  way,  he  could  shield  us  from  the  dan 
gers  that  impend.  In  his  conscience  he  feels  bound  to 
hate  us,  and,  often,  from  the  language  he  uses,  it  might 
be  inferred  that  he  does  so.  But  in  any  serious  expres 
sion  of  his  feelings,  his  human  affections  ever  obtain  the 
20  VOL.  1. 


230  A  T7  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

victory  over  the  obligations  of  hatred,  which  his  love  of 
country,  as  he  thinks,  imposes  upon  him,  and  it  would 
be  difficult  for  him  to  manifest  a  warmer  regard  toward 
any  of  his  oun  tribe,  than  he  does  toward  Julia  and  my 
self.  He  is  firmly  persuaded,  that  providence  is  using 
him  as  an  instrument,  by  which  to  effect  the  redemption 
and  d-eliverance  of  his  country  ;  not  that  he  himself  is 
to  prove  the  messiah  of  his  nation  —  as  they  term  their 
great  expected  prince  —  but  that  through  him,  in  some 
manner,  by  some  service  rendered  or  office  filled,  that 
great  personage  will  manifest  himself  to  Israel.  No 
disappointment  damps  his  zeal,  or  convinces  him  of  the 
futility  of  expectations  resting  upon  no  other  foundation 
than  his  own  inferences,  conjectures,  or  fanciful  inter 
pretation  of  the  dark  sayings  of  the  prophets.  When 
in  the  East,  it  was  through  Palmyra,  that  his  country 
was  to  receive  her  king  ;  through  her  victories,  that 
redemption  was  to  be  wrought  out  for  Israel.  Being 
compelled  to  let  go  that  dear  and  cherished  hope,  he 
now  fixes  it  upon  this  little  "  Joseph,"  and  it  will  not 
be  strange  if  this  child  of  poverty  and  want  should  in 
the  end  inherit  all  his  vast  possessions,  by  which,  he 
will  please  himself  with  thinking,  he  can  force  his  way 
to  the  throne  of  Judea.  Portia  derives  great  pleasure 
from  his  conversation,  and  frequently  detains  him  long 
for  that  purpose  ;  and  of  her  Isaac  is  never  weary  utter 
ing  the  most  extravagant  praise.  I  sometimes  wonder 
that  I  never  knew  him  before  the  Mediterranean  voyage, 
seeing  he  was  so  well  known  to  Portia  ;  but  then  again 
do  not  wonder,  when  I  remember  by  what  swarms  of 
mendicants,  strangers,  and  impostors  of  every  sort, 
Portia  was  ever  surrounded,  from  whom  I  turned  in 


AIT  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  231 

Btinctively  away  ;  especially  did  I  ever  avoid  all  inter 
course  with  Christians  and  Jews.  I  held  them,  of  all, 
lowest  and  basest. 

We  are  just  returned  from  Tibur,  where  we  have  en 
joyed  many  pleasant  hours  with  Zenobia.  Livia  was 
there  also.  The  day  was  in  its  warmth  absolutely 
Syrian,  and  while  losing  ourselves  in  the  mazes  of  the 
Queen's  extensive  gardens,  we  almost  fancied  ourselves 
in  Palmyra.  Nicomachus  being  of  the  company,  as  he 
ever  is,  and  Vabalathus,  we  needed  but  you,  Calpurnius, 
and  Gracchus,  to  complete  the  illusion. 

The  Queen  devotes  herself  to  letters.  She  is  rarely 
drawn  from  her  favorite  studies,  but  by  the  arrival  of 
friends  from  Rome.  Happy  for  her  is  it  that,  carried 
back  to  other  ages  by  the  truths  of  history,  or  transport 
ed  to  other  worlds  by  the  fictions  of  poetry,  the  present 
and  the  recent  can  be  in  a  manner  forgotten  ;  or,  at 
least,  that,  in  these  intervals  of  repose,  the  soul  can 
gather  strength  for  the  thoughts  and  recollections  which 
will  intrude,  and  which  still  sometimes  overmaster  her. 
Her  correspondence  with  you  is  another  chief  solace. 
She  will  not  doubt  that  by  and  by  a  greater  pleasure 
awaits  her,  and  that  instead  of  your  letters  she  shall 
receive  and  enjoy  yourself.  Farewell. 


232  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 


LETTER    VII. 

FROM      P1SO      TO      FAUSTA. 

THE  body  of  the  Christians,  as  you  may  well  suppose, 
Fausta,  is  in  a  state  of  much  agitation.  Though  they 
cannot  discern  plainly  the  form  of  the  danger  that  im 
pends,  yet  they  discern  it  ;  and  the  very  obscurity  in 
which  it  is  involved  adds  to  their  fears.  It  is  several 
days  since  I  last  wrote,  yet  not  a  word  has  come  from 
the  palace.  Aurelian  is  seen  as  usual  in  all  public 
places  ;  at  the  capitol,  taking  charge  of  the  erection  and 
completion  of  various  public  edifices  ;  or,  if  at  the  palace, 
he  rides  as  hard  as  ever,  and  as  much,  upon  his  Hippo 
drome  ;  or,  if  at  the  Pretorian  camp,  he  is  exact  and 
severe  as  ever  in  maintaining  the  discipline  of  the  Le 
gions.  He  has  issued  no  public  order  of  any  kind  that 
bears  upon  us.  Yet  not  only  the  Christians,  but  the  whole 
city,  stand  as  if  in  expectation  of  measures  of  no  little 
severity,  going  at  least  to  the  abridgement  of  many  of  our 
liberties,  and  to  the  deprivation  of  many  of  our  privi 
leges.  This  is  grounded  chiefly,  doubtless,  upon  the  re 
ported  imprisonment  of  Aurelia  ;  for,  though  some  have 
little  hesitation  in  declaring  their  belief,  that  she  has 
been  made  way  with,  others  believe  it  not  at  all  ;  and 
none  can  assign  a  reason  for  receiving  one  story  rather 
than  another.  How  Isaac  came  to  be  possessed  of  his 
information  I  do  not  know,  but  it  bore  all  th  3  marks  of 
truth.  He  would  inform  me  neither  how  he  came  by 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  .  233 

It,  nor  would  he  allow  it  to  be  communicated.  But  it 
\vould  never  be  surprising  to  discover,  that  of  my  most 
private  affairs  he  has  a  better  knowledge  than  myself. 

Do  not,  from  what  I  have  said,  conceive  of  the  Chris 
tians  as  giving  any  signs  of  unmanly  fear.  They  per 
ceive  that  danger  threatens,  but  they  change  not  their 
manner  of  life,  not  turn  from  the  daily  path  of  their 
pursuits.  Believing  in  a  providence,  they  put  their 
trust  in  it.  Their  faith  stands  them  in  stead  as  a  suffi 
cient  support  and  refuge.  They  cannot  pretend,  any 
more  than  Isaac,  to  see  through  the  plans  and  purposes 
of  Heaven.  They  pretend  not  to  know,  nor  to  be  able 
to  explain  to  another,  why,  if  what  they  receive  is  the 
truth,  and  they  are  true  believers  in  a  true  religion,  they 
should  be  exposed  to  such  sufferings  for  its  sake  ;  and 
that  which  is  false,  and  injurious  as  false,  should  tri 
umph.  It  is  enough  for  them,  they  say,  to  be  fully 
persuaded  ;  to  know,  and  possess,  the  truth.  They  can 
never  relinquish  it  ;  they  will  rather  die.  But,  whether 
Christianity  die  with  them  or  not,  they  cannot  tell — that 
they  leave  to  God.  They  do  not  believe  that  it  will  — 
prophecy,  and  the  present  condition  of  the  world,  not 
withstanding  a  present  overhanging  cloud,  give  them 
confidence  in  the  ultimate  extension  and  power  of  their 
faith.  At  any  rate  it  shall  receive  no  injury  at  their 
hands.  They  have  professed  it  during  twenty  years  of 
prosperity,  and  have  boasted  of  it  before  the  world — they 
shall  profess  it  with  the  same  boldness,  and  the  same 
grateful  attachment,  now  that  adversity  approaches.  They 
are  fixed — calm — unmoved.  Except  for  a  deeper  tone  of 
earnestness  and  feeling  when  you  converse  with  them, 
VOL.  i. 


234  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  X  . 

and  a  cast  of  sadness  upon  the  countenance,  you  wculd 
discern  no  alteration  in  their  conduct  or  manner. 

I  might  rather  say  that,  in  a  very  large  proportion, 
there  are  observable  the  signs  of  uncommon  and  almost 
unnatural  exhilaration.  They  even  greet  the  coming  of 
trouble  as  that  which  shall  put  their  faith  to  the  test, 
shall  give  a  new  testimony  of  the  readiness  of  Chris 
tians  to  suffer,  and,  like  the  former  persecution,  give  it  a 
new  impulse  forwards.  They  seek  occasions  of  contro 
versy  and  conversation  with  the  Pagans  at  public  places, 
at  their  labor,  and  in  the  streets.  The  preachers  assume 
a  bolder,  louder  tone,  and  declaim  with  ten  times  more 
vehemence  than  ever  against  the  enormities  and  abomi 
nations  of  the  popular  religions.  Often  at  the  market 
places,  and  at  the  corners  of  the  streets,  are  those  to  be 
seen,  not  authorized  preachers  perhaps,  but  believers  and 
overflowing  with  zeal,  who,  at  the  risk  of  whatever  pop 
ular  fury  and  violence,  hold  forth  the  truth  in  Christ,  and 
denounce  the  reigning  idolatries  and  superstitions. 

At  the  head  of  these  is  Macer  ;  at  their  head,  both  as 
respects  the  natural  vigor  of  his  understanding,  and  the 
perfect  honesty  and  integrity  of  his  mind,  and  his 
dauntless  courage.  Every  day,  and  all  the  day,  is  he 
to  be  found  in  the  streets  of  Rome,  sometimes  in  one 
quarter,  sometimes  in  another,  gathering  an  audience  of 
the  passengers  or  idlers,  as  it  may  be,  and  sounding  in 
their  ears  the  truths  of  the  new  religion.  That  he,  and 
others  of  the  same  character,  deserve  in  all  they  do  thfc 
approbation  of  the  Christian  body,  or  receive  it,  is  more 
than  can  be  said.  They  are  often,  by  their  violences  in 
the  midst  of  their  harangues,  by  harsh  and  uncharitable 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  235 

denunciations,  by  false  and  exaggerated  statements,  the 
causes  of  tumult  and  disorder,  and  contribute  greatly  to 
increase  the  general  exasperation  against  us.  With 
them  it  seems  to  be  a  rnaxim,  that  all  means  are  lawful 
in  a  good  cause.  Nay,  they  seem  rather  to  prefer  the 
ruder  and  rougher  forms  of  attack.  They  seem  pos 
sessed  of  the  idea  that  the  world  is  to  be  converted  in  a 
day,  and  that  if  men  will  not  at  once  relinquish  the  preju 
dices  or  the  faith  of  years,  they  are  fit  but  for  cursings 
and  burnings.  In  setting  forth  the  mildest  doctrine  the 
world  ever  knew,  delivered  to  mankind  by  the  gentlest, 
the  most  patient  and  compassionate  being  it  ever  saw 
they  assume  a  manner  and  use  a  language  so  entirely 
at  variance  with  their  theme,  that  it  is  no  wonder  if  pre- 
judices  are  strengthened  oftener  than  they  are  set  loose, 
incredulity  made  more  incredulous,  and  the  hardened 
yet  harder  of  heart.  They  who  hear  notice  the  discre 
pancy,  and  fail  not  to  make  the  use  of  it  they  may. 
When  will  men  learn  that  the  mind  is  a  fortress  that  can 
never  be  taken  by  storm  ?  You  may  indeed  enter  it 
rudely  and  by  violence,  and  the  signs  of  submission  shall 
be  made :  but  all  the  elements  of  opposition  are  still 
there.  Reason  has  not  been  convinced ;  errors  and 
misconceptions  have  not  been  removed,  by  a  wise  and 
logical  and  humane  dealing,  and  supplanted  by  truths 
well  proved,  and  shown  to  be  truths  ;  —  and  the  victory 
is  one  in  appearance  only.  And,  what  is  more,  violence, 
on  the  part  of  the  reformer  and  assailant,  begets  violence 
on  the  other  side.  The  whole  inward  man,  with  all  his 
feelings,  prejudices,  reason,  is  instantly  put  into  a  posture 
of  defence  ;  not  only  of  defence,  for  that  were  right,  but 
of  angry  defence,  which  is  wrong.  Passion  is  up, 


236  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

which  might  otherwise  have  slept ;  and  it  is  passion, 
never  reason,  which  truth  has  to  fear.  The  intellect  in 
its  pure  form,  the  advocate  of  truth  would  always  prefer 
to  meet,  for  he  can  never  feel  sure  of  a  single  step  made 
till  this  has  been  gained.  But  intellect,  inflamed  by 
passion,  he  may  well  dread,  as  what  there  is  but  small 
hope  even  of  approaching,  much  less  of  convincing. 

Often  has  Probus  remonstrated  with  this  order  of  men, 
but  in  vain.  They  heed  him  not,  but  in  return  charge 
him  with  coldness  and  indifference,  worldliness,  and  all 
other  associated  faults.  Especially  has  he  labored  to 
preserve  Macer  from  the  extremes  to  which  he  has  run  ; 
for  he  has  seen  in  him  an  able  advocate  of  Christian 
truth,  could  he  but  be  moderated  and  restrained.  But 
Macer,  though  he  has  conceived  the  strongest  affection 
for  Probus,  will  not  allow  himself  in  this  matter  to  be 
influenced  by  him.  He  holds  himself  answerable  to 
conscience  and  God  alone  for  the  course  he  pursues.  As 
for  the  consequences  that  may  ensue,  either  to  himself 
or  his  family,  his  mind  cannot  entertain  them.  It  is  for 
Christ  he  lives,  and  for  Christ  he  is  ready  to  die. 

I  had  long  wished  to  meet  him  and  witness  his  man 
ner  both  of  acting  and  of  preaching,  and  yesterday  I  was 
fortunate  enough  to  encounter  him.  I  shall  give  you, 
as  exactly  as  I  can,  what  took  place  ;  it  will  show  you 
better  than  many  letters  could  do  what,  in  one  direction, 
are  our  present  position  and  prospects. 

I  was  in  the  act  of  crossing  the  great  avenue,  which, 
on  the  south,  leads  to  the  Forum,  when  I  was  arrested 
by  a  disorderly  crowd,  such  as  we  often  see  gathered 
suddenly  in  the  street  of  a  city  about  a  thief  who  has 
been  caught,  or  a  person  who  has  been  trodden  down 


A  U  R  E  L  1  A  N  .  237 

on  tne  pavement.  It  moved  quickly  in  the  direction  of 
the  tribunal  of  Varus,  and,  what  was  my  surprise,  to  be 
hold  Macer,  in  the  midst,  with  head  aloft,  and  inflamed 
countenance,  holding  in  his  grasp,  and  dragging  onwards, 
one,  who  would  willingly  have  escaped.  The  crowd 
seemed  disposed,  as  I  judged  by  the  vituperations  that 
were  directed  against  Macer,  to  interfere,  but  were  appa 
rently  deterred  by  both  the  gigantic  form  of  Macer  and 
their  vicinity  to  the  tribunal,  whither  he  was  going. 
Waiting  till  they  were  at  some  distance  in  advance  of 
me,  I  then  followed,  determined  to  judge  for  my  self  of 
this  singular  man.  I  was  with  them  in  the  common  hall 
before  the  prefect  had  taken  his  seat.-  When  seated  at 
his  tribunal,  he  inquired  the  cause  of  the  tumult,  and 
who  it  was  that  wished  to  appeal  to  him. 

'  I  am  the  person,'  said  Macer  ;  «  and  I  come  to  drag 
to  justice  this  miscreant — ' 

'  And  who  may  you  be  ?' 

*  I  should  think  Varus  might  recognize  Macer.' 

*  It  is  so  long  since  I  met  thee  last  at  the  Emperor's 
table,  that  thy  features  have  escaped  me.' 

At  which,  as  was  their  duty,  the  attendant  rabble 
laughed. 

'  Is  there  any  one  present,'  continued  the  prefect, '  who 
knows  this  man  ?' 

4  Varus  need  apply  to  no  other  than  myself,'  said  Ma- 
cer.  '  I  am  Macer,  the  son  of  that  Macer  who  was 
neighbor  of  the  gladiator  Pollex, — ' 

'  Hold,  I  say,'  interrupted  the  prefect  ;  '  a  -.nan  wit 
nesses  not  here  of  himself.  Can  any  one  here  say  that 
this  man  is  not  crazy  or  drunk  ?' 

*  Varus  !    prefect  Varus  — '  cried    Macer,   his  eyes 


238  A  D  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

flashing  lightning,  and  his  voice  not  less  than  thunder  ; 
but  he  was  again  interrupted. 

'  Peace,  slave  !  or  rods  shall  teach  thee  where  thou 
art.'  And  at  the  same  moment,  at  a  sign  from  Varus, 
he  was  laid  hold  of  with  violence  by  officials  of  the 
place  armed  with  spears  and  rods,  and  held. 

'  What  I  wish  to  know  then,'  said  Varus,  turning  to 
the  crowd,  '  is,  whether  this  is  not  the  street  brawler, 
one  of  the  impious  Gallileans,  a  man  who  should  long 
ago  have  been  set  in  the  stocks  to  find  leisure  for  better 
thoughts  ?  ' 

Several  testified,  as  was  desired,  that  this  was  he. 

1  This  is  all  I  wish  to  know,'  said  the  prefect.  *  The 
man  is  either  without  wits,  or  they  are  disordered,  or 
else  the  pestilent  faith  he  teaches  has  made  the  nuisance 
of  him  he  is,  as  it  does  of  all  who  meddle  with  it.  It 
is  scarcely  right  that  he  should  be  abroad.  Yet  has  he 
committed  no  offence  that  condemns  him  either  to 
scourging  or  the  prison.  Hearken  therefore,  fellow  !  I 
now  dismiss  thee  without  the  scourging  thou  well  de- 
servest  ;  but,  if  thou  keep  on  thy  wild  and  lawless  way, 
racks  and  dungeons  shall  teach  thee  what  there  is  in 
Roman  justice.  Away  with  him  !  ' 

'  Romans  !  Roman  citizens  !  '  cried  Macer  ;  *  are 
these  your  laws  and  this  your  judge  ?  — ' 

'  Away  with  him,  I  say ! '  cried  the  prefect  ;  and  the 
officers  of  the  palace  hurried  him  out  of  the  hall. 

As  he  went,  a  voice  from  the  crowd  shouted, 

•  Roman  citizens,  Macer,  are  long  since  dead.  'T  is 
a  vain  appeal.' 

'  I  believe  you,'  replied  Macer  ;  '  tyrant  and  slave  stand 
now  for  all  who  once  bore  the  proud  name  of  Roman.' 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N.  239 

This  violence  and  injustice  on  the  part  of  Varus  must 
be  traced  —  for  though  capricious,  and  imperious,  this  is 
not  his  character  —  to  the  language  of  Macer  in  the 
shop  of  Publius,  and  to  his  apprehension  lest  the  same 
references  to  his  origin,  which  he  would  willingly  have 
forgotten,  should  be  made,  and  perhaps  more  offensively 
still,  in  the  presence  of  the  people.  Probus,  on  the  for 
mer  occasion,  lamented  deeply  that  Macer  should  have 
been  tempted  to  rehearse  in  the  way  he  did  some  of  the 
circumstances  of  the  prefect's  history,  as  its  only  end 
could  be  to  needlessly  irritate  the  man  of  power,  and 
raise  up  a  bitterer  enemy  than  we  might  otherwise  have 
found  in  him. 

Upon  leaving  the  tribunal,  I  was  curious  to  watch  still 
further  the  movements  of  the  Christian.  The  crowd 
about  him  increased  rather  than  diminished,  as  he  left 
the  building  and  passed  into  the  street.  At  but  a  little 
distance  from  the  hall  of  the  prefect,  stands  the  Temple 
of  Peace,  with  its  broad  and  lofty  flights  of  steps. 
When  Macer  had  reached  it  he  paused,  and  looked 
round  upon  the  motley  crowd  that  had  gathered  about  him. 

4  Go  up  !  go  up  ! '  cried  several  voices.  *  We  will 
hear  thee.' 

*  There  is  no  prefect  here,'  cried  another 

Macer  needed  no  urging  ,  but  quickly  strode  up  the 
steps,  till  he  stood  between  the  central  columns  of  the 
temple  and  his  audience  had  disposed  themselves  be 
low  him  in  every  direction,  when  he  turned  and  gazed 
upon  the  assembled  people,  who  had  now — by  the  addi 
tion  of  such  as  passed  along,  and  who  had  no  more  ur 
gent  business  than  to  attend  to  that  of  any  others  whom 
they  might  chance  to  meet, — grown  to  a  multitude.  Af- 


240  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

ter  looking  upon  them  for  a  space,  as  if  studying  their 
characters,  and  how  he  could  best  adapt  his  discourse  to 
their  occasions,  he  suddenly  and  abruptly  broke  out — 

*  You  have  asked    me  to   come    up   here  ;  and  I  am 
here  ;  glad  for  once  to  be  in  such  a  place  by  invitation. 
And  now  I  am  here,  and    am  about  to  speak,  you  will 
expect  me  to  say  something  of  the  Christians.' 

(  Yes  yes.' 

'  But  I  shall  not — not  yet.  Perhaps  by  and  by.  In 
the  meantime  my  theme  shall  be  the  prefect  !  the  prefect 
Varus  ! ' 

*  A  subject  full  of  matter,'  cried  one  near  Macer. 

*  Better  send  for  him,'  said  another.     *  'Twere  a  pity 
he  lost  it.' 

'  Yes,'  continued  Macer, '  it  is  a  subject  full  of  matter, 
and  I  wish  myself  he  were  here  to  see  himself  in  the 
mirror  I  would  hold  before  him  ;  he  could  not  but  grow 
pale  with  affright.  You  have  just  had  a  sample  of  Ro 
man  justice  !  How  do  you  like  it,  Romans  ?  I  had 
gone  there  to  seek  justice  ;  not  for  a  Christian,  but 
against  a  Christian.  A  Christian  master  had  abused 
his  slave  with  cruelty,  I  standing  by  ;  and  when  to  my 
remonstrance  —  myself  feeling  the  bitter  stripes  he  laid 
on  —  he  did  but  ply  his  thongs  the  more,  I  seized  the 
hardened  monster  by  the  neck,  and  wrenching  from  his 
grasp  the  lash,  I  first  plied  it  upon  his  own  back,  and 
then  dragged  him  to  the  judgment-seat  of  Varus, — ' 

<  0  fool  ! ' 

'  You  say  well  —  fool  that  I  was,  crying  for  justice  ! 
How  I  was  dealt  with,  some  of  you  have  seen.  There, 
I  say,  was  a  sample  of  Roman  justice  for  you  !  So  in 
these  times  does  power  sport  itself  with  poverty.  It 


AU  R  E  LI  AN  .  241 

was  not  so  once  in  Rome.     Were  Cincinnatus  orRegu- 
1  is  at  the  tribunal  of  Varus,  they  would  fare   like  the 
soldier  Macer.     And  who,  Romans,  is  this  Varus  ?  and 
why  is  he  here  in  the  seat  of  authority  ?     At  the  tribu 
nal,  Varus  did  not  know  me.     But  what  if  I  were  to  tell 
you  there  was  but  a  thin  wall  between  the  rooms  where 
we  were  born,  and  that  when  we   were  boys    we   were 
ever  at  the  same  school  !  —  not  such  schools  as  you  are 
thinking-  of,  where  the  young  go  for    letters    and    for 
Greek,  but  the   school  where  many  of  you  have  been 
and  are  now  at,  I  dare  say,  the  school  of  Roman    vice, 
which  you  may  find  always  open  all  along   the    streets, 
but  especially  where  I  and    Varus  were,  in  one  of  the 
sinks  near  the  Flavian.     Pollex,  the  gladiator,  was  father 
of  Varus  !  —  not   worse,  but  just  as  bad,  as  savage,  as 
beastly  in  his  vices,  as  are  all  of  that  butcher  tribe.     My 
father  —  Macer  too  —  I  will  not  say  more  of  him  than 
that  he  was  keeper  of  the  Vivaria  of  the    amphitheatre, 
and  passed  his  days  in  caging  and  uncaging   the  wild 
beasts  of  Asia  and  Africa  ;  in  feeding  them  when  there 
were  no  games  on  foot,  and  starving   them   when  there 
were.      Varus,   the   prefect,    Romans,   and    I,  were  at 
this  school  till  I  joined  the  legions  under  Valerian,  and 
he,  by  a  luckier  fortune,  as  it  would  be  deemed,  found 
favor  in  the  eyes   of  Gallienus,  to  whom,  with  his  fair 
sister  Fannia,  he  was  sold  by  those   demons  Pollex  and 
Ca3cina.     I  say  nothing  of  how  it  fared  with  him  in  that 
keeping.     Fannia  has  long  since  found    the    grave.     Is 
Varus  one  who  should  sit  at  the  head  of  Rome  ?     He  is 
a  man  of  blood,  of  crime,  of  vice,  such  as  you  would  not 
bear  to  be  told  of!     I  say  not  this  as  if  he  were  answer- 
VOL.  1.         21 


242  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

able  for  his  birth  and  early  vice,  but  that,  being  such, 
this  is  not  his  place.  He  could  not  help  it,  nor  I,  that 
we  were  born  and  nurtured  where  we  were  ;  that  the 
sight  of  blood  and  the  smell  of  it,  either  of  men  or 
beasts,  was  never  out  of  our  eyes  and  nostrils,  during 
all  our  boyhood  and  youth  ;  that  to  him,  and  me,  the 
sweetest  pleasure  of  our  young  life  was,  when  the  games 
came  on,  and  the  beasts  were  let  loose  upon  one  another, 
and,  —  O  the  hardening  of  that  life  !  —  when,  special^ 
there  were  prisoners  or  captives,  on  which  to  glut  their 
raging  hunger  !  Those  were  the  days  and  hours  marked 
whitest  in  our  calendar.  And,  whitest  of  all,  were  the 
days  of  the  Decian  persecution,  when  the  blood  of  thrice 
cursed  Christians,  as  I  was  taught  to  name  them,  flowed 
like  water.  Every  day  then  Varus  and  I  had  our  sport ; 
working  up  the  beasts,  by  our  torments,  to  an  unnatural 
height  of  madness  ere  they  were  let  loose,  and  then 
rushing  to  the  gratings,  as  the  doors  were  thrown  open, 
to  see  the  fury  with  which  they  would  spring  upon 
their  defenceless  victims  too,  and  tear  them  piecemeal. 
The  Romans  required  such  servants  —  and  we  were 
they.  They  require  them  now,  and  you  may  find  any 
number  of  such  about  the  theatres.  But  if  there  must 
be  such  there,  why  should  they  be  taken  thence  and  put 
upon  the  judgment-seat  ?  save,  for  the  reason,  that  they 
may  have  been  thoroughly  purged,  as  it  were,  by  fire  — 
which  Varus  has  not  been.  What  with  him  was  neces 
sary  and  forced  when  young,  is  now  chosen  and  volun 
tary.  Vice  is  now  his  by  election.  Now,  I  ask,  why 
has  the  life  of  Varus  been  such  ?  and  why,  being  such, 
is  he  here  ?  Because  you  are  so  !  Yes,  because  you 
are  all  like  him  !  It  is  you,  Roman  citizens,  who  rear 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  243 

the  theatres,  the  circuses,  and  the   thousand  temples  of 
vice,  which  crowd  the  streets  of  Rome, — ' 

'  No,  no  !  it  is  the  emperors.1 

*  But  who  make  the  emperors  ?  You  Romans  of  these 
times,  are  a  race  of  cowards  and  slaves,  and  it  is  there 
fore  that  tyrants  rule  over  you.  Were  you  freemen, 
with  the  souls  of  freemen  in  you,  do  you  think  you 
would  bear  as  you  do — and  love  and  glory  in  the  yoke — 
this  rule  of  such  creatures  as  Varus,  and  others  whom 
it  were  not  hard  to  name  ?  I  know  what  you  are  —  for 
I  have  been  one  of  you.  I  have  not  been,  nor  am  I 
now,  hermit,  as  you  may  think,  being  a  Christian.  A 
Christian  is  a  man  of  the  world  —  a  man  of  action  and 
of  suffering  —  not  of  rest  and  sleep.  I  have  ever  been 
abroad  among  men,  both  before  I  was  a  Christian  and 
since  ;  and  I  know  what  you  are.  You  are  of  the  same 
stamp  as  Varus  !  nay,  start  not,  nor  threaten  with  your 
eyes,  —  I  fear  you  not.  If  you  are  not  so,  why,  I  say, 
is  Varus  there  ?  You  know  that  I  speak  the  truth. 
The  people  of  Rome  are  corrupt  as  their  rulers  !  How 
should  it  be  much  otherwise  ?  You  are  fed  by  the  lar 
gesses  of  the  Emperor,  you  have  your  two  loaves  a  day 
and  your  pork,  and  you  need  not  and  so  do  not  work. 
You  have  no  employment  but  idleness,  and  idleness  is 
not  so  much  a  vice  itself  as  the  prolific  mother  of  all 
vices.  When  I  was  one  of  you,  it  was  so  ;  and  so  it  is 
now.  My  father's  labor  was  nothing  ;  he  was  kept  by 
the  state.  The  Emperor  was  not  more  a  man  of  pleas 
ure  than  he,  nor  the  princes,  than  I  and  Varus.  Was 
that  a  school  of  virtue  ?  When  I  left  the  service  of  the 
amphitheatre  I  joined  the  Legions.  In  the  army  I  had 
work,  and  I  had  fighting,  but  my  passions,  in  the  early 


244  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

days  of  that  service,  raged  like  the  sea  ;  and  during  all 
the  reign  of  Valerian's  son  there  was  no  bridle  upon 
them  ;  —  for  I  served  under  the  general  Carinus,  and 
what  Carinus  was  and  is,  most  of  you  know.  O  the 
double  horrors  of  those  years  !  I  was  older,  and  yet 
worse  and  worse.  God  !  I  marvel  that  thou  didst  not 
interpose  and  strike  me  dead  !  But  thy  mercy  spared 
me,  and  now  the  lowest,  lowest  hell  shall  not  be  mine.' 
Tears,  forced  by  these  recollections,  flowed  down  his 
cheeks,  and  for  a  time  he  was  speechless. 

'  Such,  Romans,  was  I  once.  What  am  I  now  ?  I 
am  a  changed  man  —  through  and  through.  There  is 
not  a  thought  of  my  mind,  nor  a  fibre  of  my  body,  what 
they  were  once.  You  may  possibly  think  the  change 
has  been  for  the  worse,  seeing  me  thus  thrust  forth  from 
the  tribunal  of  the  prefect  with  dishonor,  when  I  was  once 
a  soldier  and  an  officer  under  Aurelian.  I  would  rather 
a  thousand  times  be  what  I  am,  a  soldier  of  Jesus  Christ. 
And  I  would  that,  by  anything  I  could  do,  you,  any  one 
of  you,  might  be  made  to  think  so  too  ;  I  would  that 
Varus  might,  for  I  bear  him  no  ill  will. 

4  But  what  am  I  now  ?  I  am  so  different  a  man  from 
what  I  once  was,  that  I  can  hardly  believe  myself  to  be 
the  same.  The  life  which  I  once  led,  I  would  not  lead 
again  —  no  —  not  one  day  nor  hour  of  it,  though  you 
would  depose  Aurelian  to  day  and  crown  me  Coesar  to 
morrow.  I  would  no  more  return  to  that  life,  than  I 
would  consent  to  lose  my  nature  and  take  a  swine's, 
and  find  elysium  where  as  a  man  I  once  did,  in  sinks 
and  sties.  I  would  not  renounce  for  the  wealth  of  all 
the  world,  and  its  empire  too,  that  belief  in  the  faith  of 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  245 

Christ,  the  heai  of  the   Christians,  which    has  wrought 
so  within  me. 

'  And  what  has  made  me  so  —  would  make  you  so  — 
if  you  would  but  hearken  to  it.  And  would  it  not  be  a 
good  thing  if  the  flood  of  vice,  which  pours  all  through 
the  streets  of  .Rome,  were  stayed  ?  Would  it  not  be  a 
happy  thing,  if  the  misery  which  dwells  beneath  these 
vaulted  roofs  and  these  humbler  ones  equally,  the  mis 
ery  which  drunkenness  and  lust,  the  lust  of  money,  and 
the  love  of  place,  and  every  evil  passion  generates,  were 
all  wiped  away,  and  we  all  lived  together  observant  of 
the  rights  of  one  another,  helping  one  another  ;  not  op 
pressing  ;  loving,  not  hating  ;  showing  in  our  conduct 
as  men,  the  virtues  of  little  children  ?  Would  it  not 
be  happier  if  all  this  vast  population  were  bound  together 
by  some  common  ties  of  kindred  ;  if  all  held  all  as  breth 
ren  ;  if  the  poor  man  felt  himself  to  be  the  same  as  Au- 
relian  himself,  because  he  is  a  man  like  him  and  weighs 
just  as  much  as  he  in  the  scales  of  God,  and  that  it  is 
the  vice  in  the  one  or  the  other,  and  that  only  that  sinks 
him  lower  ?  Would  it  not  be  better,  if  you  all  could  see 
in  the  presiding  power  of  the  universe,  one  great  and 
good  Being,  who  needs  not  to  be  propitiated  by  costly 
sacrifices  of  oxen  or  bulls,  nor  by  cruel  ones  of  men, — 
but  is  always  kindly  disposed  towards  you,  and  desires 
nothing  so  much  as  to  see  you  living  virtuously,  and  is 
never  grieved  as  he  is  to  see  you  ruining  your  own 
peace, — not  harming  him — by  your  vices  ?  for  you  will 
bear  witness  with  me  that  your  vices  are  never  a  cause 
of  happiness.  Would  it  not  be  better  if  you  could  be 
hold  such  a  God  over  you,  in  the  place  of  those  who  are 
21  VOL.  1.* 


246          .  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  W  . 

called  gods,  and  whom  you  worship,  as  I  did  once,  be 
cause  I  feared  to  do  otherwise,  and  yet  sin  on  never  the 
less  :  who  are  your  patterns  not  so  much  in  virtue  as 
in  all  imaginable  vice  ? ' 

'  Away  with  the  wicked  ! ' — '  Away  with  the  fellow  ! ' 
cried  several  voices  ;  but  others  predominated,  saying, 
4  Let  him  alone  ! '  — '  He  speaks  well  !  We  will  hear 
him  !'  — '  We  will  defend  him  !  go  on,  go  on  ! ' 

*  I  have  little  or  nothing  more  to  say,'  continued  Ma- 
cer.  *  I  will  only  ask  you  whether  you  must  not  judge 
that  to  be  a  very  powerful  principle  of  some  kind  that 
drew  me  up  out  of  that  foul  pit  into  which  I  was  fallen, 
and  made  me  what  I  am  now  ?  Which  of  you  now 
feels  that  he  has  motive  strong  enough  to  work  out  such 
a  deliverance  for  him  ?  What  help  in  this  way  do  you 
receive  from  your  priests,  if  perchance  you  ever  apply 
to  them  ?  What  book  of  instructions  concerning  the 
will  of  the  gods  have  you,  to  which  you  can  go  at  any 
time  and  all  times  ?  Only  believe  as  I  do,  Romans, 
and  you  will  hate  sin  as  I  do.  You  cannot  help  it. 
Believe  in  the  God  that  I  do,  and  in  the  revealer  of  his 
will,  the  teacher  whom  he  sent  into  the  world  to  save  us 
from  our  heathen  errors  and  vices,  and  you  will  then  be 
more  than  the  Romans  you  once  were.  You  are  now, 
and  you  know  it,  infinitely  less.  Then  you  will  be 
what  the  old  Romans  were  and  more.  You  will  be  as 
brave  as  they,  and  more  just.  You  will  be  as  generous 
and  more  gentle.  You  will  love  your  own  country  as 
well,  but  you  will  love  others  too.  You.  will  be  more 
ready  to  offer  up  your  lives  'for  your  country,  for  it  will 
be  better  worth  dying  for  ;  every  citizen  will  be  a 
brother  ;  every  ruler  a  brother  ;  it  will  be  like  dying  foj 


AtT  RE  LI  AN.  247 

i  link  household.  If  you  woina  see  Rome 
*  »he  must  become  more  pure.  She  can  stagger 
along  not  much  longer  under  this  mountain  weight  of 
iniquity  that  presses  her  into  the  dust.  She  needs  a 
new  Hercules  to  cleanse  her  foul  chambers.  Christ  is 
he  ;  and  if  you  will  invite  him,  he  will  come  and  sweep 
away  these  abominations,  so  that  imperial  Rome  shall 
smell  fragrantly  as  a  garden  of  spices.' 

Loud  exclamations  of  approval  here  interrupted  Ma- 
cer.  The  great  proportion  of  those  who  were  present 
were  now  evidently  with  him,  and  interested  in  his 
communications. 

*  Tell  us,'  cried   one,  as  soon  as  the  noise  subsided, 
*  how  you  became  what  you  are  ?     What  is  to  be  done  ?. 

'  Yes,'  cried  many  voices,  '  tell  us.' 

*  I  will  tell  you  gladly,'  answered  Macer.   '  I  first  heard 
the  word  of  truth  from  the  lips  of  Probus,  a  preacher  of 
the  Christians,  whom  you  too  may  hear  whenever  you 
will,  by  seeking  him  out  on  the  days   when  the  Chris 
tians  worship.     Probus  was  in  early  life  a  priest  of  the 
temple  of  Jupiter,  and  if  any    man  in  Rome  can  place 
the  two  religions  side  by  side,  and  make  the  differences 
plain,  it  is  he.     Go  to  him  such  of  you  as  can,  and  you 
will  never  repent  it.     But  if  you  would  all   learn  the 
first  step  toward  Christian  truth,  and  all  truth,  it  is  this  ; 
lay  aside  your  prejudices,   be  willing  to  see.  hear,  and 
judge  for  yourselves.     Take  not  rumor  for   truth.     JDo 
not  believe  without  evidence  both  for  and  against.     You 
would  not,  without  evidence  and  reason,  charge  Aurelian 
with  the  death  of  Aurelia,  though  ten  thousand  tongues 
report  it.     Charge  not  the  Christians  with  worse  things 
then,  merely  because  the   wicked  and  ill-disposed  ma- 


248  A  t7  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

liciously  invent  them  and  spread  them.  If  you  would 
know  the  whole  truth  and  doctrine  of  Christians  ;  if  you 
would  ascend  to  the  fountain-head  of  all  Christian 
wisdom,  take  to  your  homes  our  sacred  books  and  read 
them.  Some  of  you  at  least  can  obtain  them.  Let  one 
purchase,  and  then  twenty  or  fifty  read.  One  thing  be 
fore  I  cease.  Believe  not  the  wicked  aspersions  of  the 
prefect.  He  charges  me  as  a  brawler,  a  disturber  of  the 
peace  and  order  of  the  city.  Romans,  believe  me,  I  am 
a  lover  of  peace,  but  I  am  a  lover  of  freedom  too.  Be 
cause  I  am  a  lover  of  peace,  and  would  promote  it,  do  I 
labor  to  teach  the  doctrines  of  Christ,  which  are  doctrines 
of  peace  and  love,  both  at  home  and  abroad,  in  the  city 
and  throughout  the  world ;  and  because  I  am  the  friend 
of  freedom,  do  I  open  my  mouth  at  all  times  and  in  every 
place,  wherever  I  can  find  those  who,  like  you,  are 
ready  to  hear  the  words  of  salvation.  When  in  Rome  I 
can  no  longer  speak  —  no  longer  speak  for  the  cause  of 
what  I  deem  truth,  then  will  I  no  longer  be  a  Roman. 
Then  will  I  that  day  renounce  my  name  and  my  country. 
Thanks  to  Aurelian,  he  has  never  chained  up  the 
tongue.  I  have  fought  and  bled  under  him,  and  never 
was  there  a  braver  man,  or  who  honored  courage  more 
in  others.  I  do  not  believe  he  will  ever  do  so  cowardly 
a  thing  as  to  restrain  the  freedom  of  men's  speech.  Au 
relian  is  some  things,  but  he  is  not  others.  He  is  se 
vere  and  cruel,  but  not  mean.  Cut  Aurelian  in  two, 
and  throw  the  worser  half  away,  and  t'  other  is  as  royal 
a  man  as  ever  the  world  saw. 

*  One  thing  more,  good  friends  and  citizens  r  If  I  am 
sometimes  carried  away  by  my  passions  to  do  that  which 
seems  a  dicturbance  of  the  common  order,  say  that  it  is 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N.  249 

the  soldier  Macer  that  does  it,  not  his  Christian  zea.' 
— his  human  passions,  not  his  new-adopted  faith.  It  is 
not  at  once  and  perfectly  that  a  man  passes  from  one 
life  to  another  ;  puts  off  one  nature  and  takes  another. 
Much  that  belonged  to  Macer  of  the  amphitheatre,  and 
Macer  the  soldier,  cleaves  to  him  now.  But  make  not  his 
religion  amenable  for  that.  You  who  would  see  the  law 
of  Christ  written,  not  only  on  a  book  but  in  the  character 
and  life  of  a  living  man,  go  read  the  Christian  Probus.' 

As  he  said  these  words  he  began  to  descend  the  steps 
of  the  temple  ;  but  many  crowded  round  him,  assailing 
him,  some  with  reproaches,  and  others  with  inquiries 
put  by  those  who  seemed  anxious  to  know  the  truth. 
The  voices  of  his  opponents  were' the  most  violent  and 
prevailed,  and  made  me  apprehensive  that  they  would 
proceed  to  greater  length  than  speech.  But  Macer 
stood  firm,  nothing  daunted  by  the  uproar.  One,  who 
signalized  himself  by  the  loudness  and  fierceness  of  his 
cries,  exclaimed,  '  that  he  was  nothing  else  than  an 
atheist  like  all  the  rest  of  the  Christians  ;  they  have  no 
gods  ;  they  deny  the  gods  of  Rome,  and  they  give  us 
nothing  in  their  stead.' 

*  We  deny  the  gods  of  Rome,  I  know,'  replied  Macer, 
*  and  who  would  not,  who  had  come  to  years  of  discre 
tion  ?  who  had  so  much  as  left  his  nurse's  lap  ?  A 
fouler  brotherhood  than  they  the  lords  of  Heaven,  Rome 
does  not  contain.  Am  I  to  be  called  upon  to  worship  a 
set  of  wretches  chargeable  with  all  the  crimes  and  vices 
to  be  found  on  earth  ?  It  is  this  accursed  idolatry,  O 
Romans,  that  has  sunk  you  so  low  in  sin  !  They  are 
your  lewd,  and  drunken,  and  savage  deities,  who  have 
taught  you  all  vour  refinement  in  wickedness  ;  and 


250  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

never,  till  you  renounce  them,  never  till  you  repent  you 
of  your  iniquities  —  never  till  you  turn  and  worship  the 
true  God  will  you  rise  out  of  the  black  Tartarean 
slough  in  which  you  are  lying.  These  two  hundred 
years  and  more  has  God  called  to  you  by  his  Son,  and  you 
have  turned  away  your  ears  ;  you  have  hardened  your 
hearts  ;  the  prophets  who  have  come  to  you  in  his  name 
have  you  slain  by  the  sword  or  hung  upon  the  accursed 
tree.  Awake  out  of  your  slumbers  !  These  are  the  last 
days.  God  will  not  forbear  forever.  The  days  of  ven 
geance  will  come  ;  they  are  now  at  hand  :  I  can  hear  the 
rushing  of  that  red  right  arm  hot  with  wrath  —  ' 

4  Away  with  him  !  away  with  him  ! '  broke  from  an 
hundred  voices!  —  'Down  with  the  blasphemer!'  — 
*  Who  is  he  to  speak  thus  of  the  gods  of  Rome  ?  ' —  '  Seize 
the  impious  Gallilean,  and  away  with  him  to  the  pre 
fect  ! '  —  These,  and  a  thousand  exclamations  of  the  same 
kind,  and  more  savage,  were  heard  on  every  side  ;  and, 
at  the  same  moment,  their  denial  and  counter-exclama 
tions,  from  as  many  more. 

*  He  has  spoken  the  truth  !  — «  He  is  a  brave  fellow  ! ' 
— '  He  shall  not  be  touched  except  we  fall  first ! '  — 
came  from  a  resolute  band  who  encompassed  the  preach 
er,  and  seemed  resolved  to  make  good  their  words  by 
defending  him  against  whatever  assault  might  be  made. 
Macer,  himself  a  host  in  such  an  affray,  neither  spoke 
nor  moved,  standing  upright  and  still  as  a  statue ;  but 
any  one  might  see  the  soldier  in  his  kindling  eye,  and 
that  a  slight  cause  would  bring  him  upon  the  assailants 
with  a  fury  that  would  deal  out  wounds  and  death.  He 
nad  told  them  that  the  old  Legionary  was  not  quite  dead 
within  him,  and  sometimes  usurped  the  place  of  the 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  251 

Christian  ;  this  they  seemed  to  remember,  and  after 
showering  upon  him  vituperation  and  abuse  in  every 
form,  one  after  another  they  withdrew  and  left  him  with 
those  who  had  gathered  immediately  around  him. 
These  too  soon  took  their  leave  of  him,  and  Macer,  un 
impeded  and  alone,  turned  towards  his  home. 

When  I  related  to  Probus  afterwards  what  I  had 
heard  and  witnessed,  he  said  that  I  was  fortunate  in  hear 
ing  what  was  so  much  more  sober  and  calm  than  that 
which  usually  fell  from  him  ;  that  generally  he  devoted 
himself  to  an  exposition  of  the  absurdities  of  the  heathen 
worship,  and  the  abominations  of  the  mysteries,  and  the 
vices  of  the  priesthood ;  and  he  rarely  ended  without 
filling  with  rage  a  great  proportion  of  those  who  heard 
him.  Many  a  time  had  he  been  assaulted  ;  and  hardly 
had  escaped  with  his  life.  You  will  easily  perceive, 
Fausta,  how  serious  an  injury  is  inflicted  upon  us  by 
rash  and  violent  declaimers  like  Macer.  There  are 
others  like  him ;  he  is  by  no  means  alone,  though  he  is 
far  the  most  conspicuous.  Together  they'help  to  kindle 
the  flame  of  active  hostility,  and  infuse  fresh  bitterness 
into  the  Pagan  heart.  Should  the  Emperor  carry  into  ef 
fect  the  purposes  now  ascribed  to  him,  these  men  will 
be  sure  victims,  and  the  first. 

Upon  my  return  after  hearing  Macer,  I  found  Livia 
seated  with  Julia,  to  whom  she  often  comes  thus,  and 
then  together  —  I  often  accompanying — we  visit  Ti- 
bur.  She  had  but  just  arrived.  It  was  easy  to  see  that 
the  light-heartedness,  which  so  manifested  itself  always 
in  the  beaming  countenance  and  the  elastic  step,  was 
gone  ;  the  usual  signs  of  it  at  least  were  not  visible. 


252  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N. 

Her  whole  expression  was  serious  and  anxious  ;  and 
upon  her  face  were  the  traces  of  recent  grief.  For  a 
long  time,  after  the  first  salutations  and  inquiries  were 
through,  neither  spoke.  At  length  Livia  said, 

'  I  am  come  now,  Julia,  to  escape  from  what  has  be 
come  of  late  little  other  than  a  prison.  The  Fabrician 
dungeons  are  not  more  gloomy  than  the  gardens  of  Sal 
lust  are  now.  No  more  gaiety  ;  no/easting  by  day  and 
carousal  by  night ;  the  gardens  never  illuminated ;  no 
dancing  nor  music.  -It  is  a  new  life  for  me  :  and  then 
the  only  creatures  to  be  seen,  that  hideous  Fronto  and 
the  smiling  Varus  ;  men  very  well  in  their  place,  but 
no  inmates  of  palaces.' 

*  Well '  said  Julia  ; '  there  is  the  greater  reason  why 
we  should  see  more  of  each  other  and  of  Zenobia.     Au- 
relian  is  the  same  ?  ' 

*  The  same  ?     There  is  the  same  form,  and  the  same 
face,  and  the  same   voice ;  but  the  form  is   motionless, 
save  when  at  the  Hippodrome,  —  the  face  black  as  Styx, 
and  his  voice  rougher  than  the  raven's.     That  agreeable 
humor   and    sportiveness,  which  seemed  native  to  him, 
though  by  reason  of  his  thousand  cares  not  often  seen,  is 
now  wholly  gone.     He  is  observant  as  ever  of  all  the 
forms  of  courtesy,  and  I  am  to  him  what  I  have  ever 
been  ;  but  a  dark  cloud  has  settled  over  him  and  all  the 
house,  and  I  would  willingly  escape    if  I   could.     And 
worse  than  all,  is  this  of  Aurelia  !     Alas,  poor  girl ! ' 

1  And  what,  Livia,  is  the  truth  ?'  said  Julia;  '  the  city 
is  filled  with  rumors,  but  they  are  so  at  variance  one 
with  another,  no  one  knows  which  to  believe,  or  whether 
none.' 

*  I  hardly  know  myself,'  replied  Livia.     '  All  I  know 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  253 

with  certainty  is,  that  I  have  lost  my  only  companion  — 
or  the  only  one  I  cared  for  —  and  that  Aurelian  merely 
says  she  has  been  sent  to  the  prisons  at  the  Fabrician 
bridge.  I  cannot  tell  you  of  our  parting.  Aurelia  was 
sure  something  terrible  was  designed  against  her,  from 
the  sharpness  and  violence  of  her  uncle's  language,  ant 
she  left  me  as  if  she  were  never  to  see  me  again.  But 
I  would  believe  no  such  thing,  and  so  I  told  her,  and 
tried  to  give  to  her  some  of  the  courage  and  cheerfulness 
which  I  pretended  to  have  myself:  but  it  was  to  no  pur 
pose.  She  departed  weeping  as  if  her  heart  were 
broken.  I  love  her  greatly,  notwithstanding  her  usual 
air  of  melancholy  and  her  preference  of  solitude,  and  I 
have  found  in  her,  as  you  know,  my  best  friend  and 
companion.  Yet  I  confess  there  is  that  in  her  which  I 
never  understood,  and  do  not  now  understand.  I  hope 
she  will  comply  with  the  wishes  of  Aurelian,  and  that 
I  shall  soon  see  her  again.  The  difficulty  is  all  owing 
to  this  new  religion.  I  wish,  Julia,  there  were  no  such 
thing.  It  seems  to  me  to  do  nothing  but  sow  discord 
and  violence.' 

*  That,  dear  Livia,'  said  Julia,  '  is  not  a  very  wise 
wish  ;  especially  seeing  you  know,  as  you  will  )iourself 
confess,  so  little  about  it.' 

'  But,'  quickly  added  Livia,  *  was  it  not  better  as  it 
was  at  Palmyra  ?  who  heard  then  of  these  bitter  hostil 
ities  ?  who  were  there  troubled  about  their  worship  ? 
One  hardly  knew  there  was  such  a  thing  as  a  Christian. 
When  Paul  was  at  the  palace,  it-was  still  all  the  same  , 
only,  if  anything,  a  little  more  agreeable.  But  here,  no 
one  at  the  gardens  speaks  of  Christians  but  with  an  as- 
VOL.  1.  22 


254  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

sissin   air  that  frightens  one.      There  must  surely  be 
more  evil  in  them  than  I  ever  dreamed  of.' 

1  The  evil,  Livia,'  answered  her  sister,  '  comes  not 
from  the  Christians  nor  Christianity,  but  from  those  \vho 
oppose  them.  There  were  always  Christians  in  Pal 
myra,  and,  as  you  say,  even  in  the  palace,  yet  there  was 
always  peace  and  good-will  too.  If  Christianity  were 
in  itself  an  element  of  discord  and  division,  why  were 
no  such  effects  seen  there  ?  The  truth  is,  Livia,  the  di 
vision  and  discord  are  created,  not  by  the  new  religion, 
but  by  those  who  resist  it,  and  will  not  suffer  people  to 
act  and  think  as  they  please  about  it.  Under  Zenobia, 
all  had  liberty  to  believe  as  they  would.  And  there  was 
under  her  the  reign  of  universal  peace  and  good-will. 
Here,  on  the  other  hand,  it  has  been  the  practice  of  the 
state  to  interfere,  and  say  what  the  citizens  shall  believe 
and  whom  they  shall  worship,  and  what  and  whom  they 
shall  riot.  How  should  it  be  otherwise  than  that 
troubles  should  spring  up,  under  legislation  so  absurd 
and  so  wicked?  Would  it  not  be  a  certain  way  to  in 
troduce  confusion,  if  the  state  —  or  Aurelian  —  should 
prescribe  our  food  and  drink  ?  or  our  dress  ?  And  if 
confusion  did  arise,  and  bitter  opposition,  you  could  not 
justly  say  it  was  owing  to  the  existence  of  certain  kinds 
of  food,  or  of  clothes  which  people  fancied,  but  to  their 
being  interfered  with.  Let  them  alone,  and  they  will 
please  themselves  and  be  at  peace.' 

1  Yes,'  said  Livia,  *  that  may  be.  But  the  common  peo 
ple  are  in  noway  fit  judges  in  such  things,  and  it  seems  to 
me  if  either  party  must  give  way,  it  were  better  the  people 
did.  The  government  has  the  power  and  they  will  use  it. 

'  In  so  indifferent  a  matter  as  food  or   dress,'  rejoined 


A  tJ  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  255 

the  sister,  '  if  a  government  were  so  foolish  as  to  make 
prohibitory  and  whimsical  laws,  it  were  better  to  yield 
than  contend.  But  in  an  affair  so  different  from  that  as 
one's  religion,  one  could  not  act  in  the  same  way.  I 
may  dress  in  one  kind  of  stuff  as  well  as  another  ;  it  is 
quite  a  possible  thing  :  but  is  it  not  plainly  impossible,  if 
I  think  one  kind  of  stuff  is  of  an  exquisite  fineness  arid 
color,  for  me  to  believe  and  say  at  the  same  time,  that  its 
texture  is  coarse  and  its  hue  dull  ?  The  mind  cannot  be 
lieve  according  to  any  other  laws  than  those  of  its  own  con 
stitution.  Is  it  not  then  the  height  of  wickedness  to  set 
out  to  make  people  believe  and  act  one  way  in  religion  ? 
The  history  of  the  world  has  shown  that,  in  spite  of  men's 
wickedness,  there  is  nothing  on  earth  they  value  as  they 
do  their  religion.  They  will  die  rather  than  change  or 
renounce  it.  Men  are  the  same  now.  To  require  that 
any  portion  of  the  people  shall  renounce  their  religion  is 
to  require  them  to  part  with  that  which  they  value  most 
— more  than  life  itself — and  is  it  not  in  effect  pronounc 
ing  against  them  a  sentence  of  destruction  ?  Some  in 
deed  will  relinquish  it  rather  than  die ;  and  some  will 
play  the  hypocrite  for  a  season,  intending  to  return  to  a 
profession  of  it  in  more  peaceful  times  :  but  mos  ,  and 
the  best,  will  die  before  they  will  disown  their  faith.' 

'  Then  if  that  is  so,'  said  Livia,  '  and  I  confess  what 
you  say  cannot  be  denied,  I  would  that  Aurelian  could 
be  prevailed  upon  to  recede  from  a  position  which  he  ap 
pears  to  be  taking.  His  whole  nature  now  seems  to 
have  been  set  on  fire  by  this  priest  Pronto.  Superstition 
has  wholly  seized  and  possessed  him.  His  belief  is  that 
Rome  can  never  be  secure  and  great  till  the  enemies  of 
the  cods,  as  well  as  of  the  state,  shall  perish  ;  and  push- 


256  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

ed  on  by  Pronto,  so  far  as  can  be  gatheied  from  theii 
discourse,  is  now  bent  on  their  injury  or  destruction.  I 
wish  he  could  be  changed  back  again  to  what  he  was 
before  this  notion  seized  him.  Piso,  have  you  seen 
him  ?  Have  you  of  late  conversed  with  him  ?  ' 

'  Only,  Livia,  briefly  ;  and  on  this  topic  only  at  intervals 
of  other  talk  ;  for  he  avoids  it,  at  least  with  me.  But 
from  what  we  all  know  of  Aurelian,  it  is  not  one's  opin 
ion  nor  another's  that  can  alter  his  will  when  once  bent 
one  way.' 

*  How  little  did  I  once  deem,'  said  Livia,  *  when  I  used 
to  wish  so  for  greatness  and  empire,  that  they  could  be 
so  darkened  over.     I  thought  that  to  be  great  was  neces 
sarily  to  be  happy.     But  I  was  but  a  child  then. 

'  How  long  since  was  that  ?'  asked  Julia,  smiling. 

*  Ah  !  you  would  say  I  am  little  better  than  that  now.1 
'  You  are  young  yet,  Livia,  for  much  wisdom  to  have 

come  ;  and  you  must  not  wonder  if  it  come  slowly,  for 
you  are  unfortunately  placed  to  gain  it.  An  idol  on  its 
pedestal  can  rarely  have  but  two  thoughts  — that  it  is 
an  idol,  and  that  it  is  to  be  worshipped.  The  entrance 
of  all  other  wisdom  is  quite  shut  out.' 

*  How  pleasant  a  thing  it  is,  Piso,  to  have  an    elder 
sister  as  wise  as  Julia  !     But  come,  will  you  to  Tibur  ? 
I  must  have  Faustula,  now  I  have  lost  Aurelia.' 

'  0  no,  Livia,'  said  Julia  ;    *  take   her  not  away  from 
Zenobia.     She  can  ill  spare  her. 
'  But  there  is  Vabalathus.' 

*  Yes,  but  he  is  now   little    there.     He   is   moreover 
preparing  for  his  voyage.     Faustula  is  her  all.' 

*  Ah,  then  it  cannot  be  !     Yes,  it   were  very   wrong. 
But,  this  being  so,  I  see  not  then  but  I  must  go  to  her, 


AU  RE  LI  AN.  257 

or  come  live  with  you.     Only  think  of  one's    trying  to 

escape  from  the  crown  of  Rome  ?     I  can  hardly  believe  1 

am  Livia  ;    once  never  to  be  satisfied  with  power  and 

greatness  —  now  tired  of  them  !     No,  not  that  exactly — ' 

4  You  are  tired,  only,  Livia,  of  some    little    attendant 

troubles  ;    you  like  not  that  overhanging  cloud  you  just 

spoke  of ;    but  for  the  empire  itself,  you  love  that  none 

the  less.     To  believe  that,  it  is  enough  to  see  you.' 

*  I  suppose  you  are  right.     Julia  is  always  right,  Piso.' 

So  our  talk  ran  on  ;    sometimes  into  graver  and  then 

into  lighter  themes  —  often  stopping  and  lingering  long 

over  you,  and  Calpurnius,  and  Gracchus.     You  wished 

to  know  more  of  Livia  and  her  thoughts,  and  I  have  given 

her  to  you  in  just  the  mood  in  which  she  happened  to  be. 

The  wife  of  Macer  has  just  been  here,  seeking  from 
Julia  both  assistance  and  comfort.  She  implores  us  to 
do  what  we  may  to  calm  and  sober  her  husband. 

'  As  the  prospect  of  danger  increases,'  she  said  to 
Julia,  *  he  grows  but  the  more  impetuous  and  ungovern 
able.  He  is  abroad  all  the  day  and  every  day,  preach 
ing  all  over  Rome,  and  brings  home  nothing  for  the 
support  of  the  family  ;  and  if  it  were  not  for  the  Em 
peror's  bounty,  we  should  starve.' 
'  And  does  that  support  you  ?' 

1  0  no,  lady  !  it  hardly  gives  us  food  enough  to  subsist 
upon.  Then  we  have  besides  to  pay  for  our  lodging 
and  our  clothes.  But  I  should  mind  not  at  all  our  la 
bor  nor  our  poverty,  did  I  not  hear  from  so  many  that 
my  husband  is  so  wild  and  violent  in  his  preaching,  and 
when  he  disputes  with  the  gentiles,  as  he  will  cal)  them. 
22  VOL.  1.* 


258  A  U  R  E  L  1  A  *  . 

I  am  sure  it  is  a  good  cause  to -suffer  in,  if  one  must 
suffer  ;  but  if  our  dear  Macer  would  only  work  half  the 
time,  there  would  be  no  occasion  to  suffer,  which  we 
should  now  were  it  not  for  Demetrius  the  jeweler — who 
lives  hard  by,  and  who  I  am  sure  has  been  very  kind  to 
us  —  and  our  good  jElia.' 

*  You  do  not  then,'  I  asked,  *  blame  your  religion  nor 
weary  of  it  ? ' 

*  0,  sir,  surely  not.     It  is  our  greatest  comfort.     Wo 
all  look  out  with  expectation  of  our  greatest  pleasure, 
when  Macer  returns  home,  after  his  day's  labors,  —  and 
labors  they  surely  are,  and  will  destroy  him,  unless  he 
is   persuaded    to   leave   them  off.     For  when   he  is  at 
home  the  children  all  come  round  him,  and  he  teaches 
them  in  his  way  what  religion  is.     Sometimes  it  is  a 
long  story  he  gives  them  of  his  life,  when  he  was  a  little 
boy  and  knew  nothing  about  Christ,  and  what  wicked 
things  he  did,  and  sometimes  about  his  serving  as  a  sol 
dier  under  the  Emperor.     But  he  never  ends  without 
showing  them  what  Christ's  religion  tells  them  to  think 
of  such  ways  of  life.     And  then,  sir,  before  we  go  to 
bed  he  reads  to  us  from  the  gospels  —  which  he  bought 
when  he  was  in  the  army,  and  was  richer  than  he  is 
now  —  and  prays  for  us  all,  for  the  city,  and  the  Empe~ 
ror,  and  the  gentiles.     So  that  we  want  almost  nothing, 
as  I  may  say,  to  make  us  quite  contented  and  happy.' 

«  Have  you  ever  been  disturbed  in  your  dwelling  on 
Macer's  account  ? ' 

*  0  yes,  sir,  and  we  are  always  fearing  it.     This  is 
our  great  trouble.     Once  the  house  was  attacked  by  the 
people  of  the  street,  and  almost  torn  down  —  and  we 
escaped,  I  and  the  children,  through  a  back  way  into  the 


A  rr  R  E  L  j  A  N.  259 

shop  of  the  good  Demetrius.  There  we  were  safe  ;  and 
while  we  were  gone  our  little  cabin  was  entered,  and 
everything  in  it  broken  in  pieces.  Macer  was  not  at 
home,  or  I  think  he  would  have  been  killed. 

*  Did  you  apply  to  the  prefect  ? ' 

*  No,  sir,  I  do  not  believe  there  would  be  much  use  in 
that :  they  say  he  hates  the  Christians  so.' 

'  But  he  is  bound  to  preserve  order  in  the  city.' 

*  Yes,  sir ;  but  for  a  great  man  like  him  it 's  easy  to 
see  only  one  way,  and  to  move  so  slowly  that  it  does  no 
good.     That  is   what  our  people   say  of  him.     When 
the   Christians  are   in   trouble   he   never   comes,  if  he 
comes  at  all,  till  it  is  too  late  to  do  them  any   service. 
The  best  way  for  us  is,  I  think,  to  live  qifietly,  and  not 
needlessly  provoke  the  gentiles,  nor  believe  that  we  can 
make  Christians  of  them  all  in  a  day.     That  is  my  hus 
band's  dream.     He  thinks  that  he  must  deliver  his  mes 
sage  to  people,  whether  they  will  or  not,  and  it  almost 
seems  as  if  the  more  hostile  they  were,  the  more  he  made 
it  his  duty  to  preach  to  them,  which  certainly  was  not  the 
way  in  which  Christ  did,  as  he  reads  his  history  to  us.     It 
was  just  the  other  way.     It  almost  makes  me  believe  that 
some  demon  has  entered  into  him,  he  is  so  different  from 
what  he  was,  and  abroad  from  what  he  is  at  home.     Do 
you  think  that  likely,  sir  ?     J  have  been  at  times  inclined 
to  apply  to  Felix  to  see  if  he    oulci  not  exorcise  him.' 

'  No,  I  do  not  think  s-  tensility  ;  but  many  may.  I 
believe  he  errs  in  hi&  n»  )n  tr  .he  way  in  which  to  do 
good;  but  under  some  ircumstances  it  is  so  hard  to 
tell  which  the  best  way  -s,  that  we  must  judge  charita-  * 
bly  of  one  another.  Some  would  say  that  Macer  is 
right ;  others  that  the  course  of  Probus  is  wisest ;  and 


260  A  n  R  E  L  T  A  N  . 

others,  that  of  Felix.     We  must  do  as  we  think  right, 
and  leave  the  issue  to  God.' 

'  But  you   will  come   and  see  us  ?     We  dwell   near 
the  ruins,  and  behind  the  shop  of  Demetrius.     Every 
body  knows  Demetrius.' 

I  assured  her  I  would  go 

I  almost  wish,  Fausta,  that  Julia  was  with  you.  All 
classes  seem  alike  exposed  to  danger.  But  I  suppose  it 
would  be  in  vain  to  propose  such  a  step  to  her,  espe 
cially  after  what  she  said  to  Isaac.  You  now,  after 
your  storm,  live  at  length  in  calm  :  not  exactly  in  sun 
shine  ;  for  you  would  say  the  sun  never  can  seem  to 
shine  that  falls  upon  the  ruins  of  Palmyra.  But  calm 
and  peace  you  certainly  have,  and  they  are  much.  I 
wish  Julia  could  enjoy  them  with  you.  For  here,  every 
hour,  so  it  now  seems  to  me,  the  prospect  darkens,  and 
it  will  be  enough  for  one  of  us  to  remain  to  encounter 
the  evil,  whatever  it  may  be,  and  defend  the  faith  we 
have  espoused.  This  is  an  office  more  appropriate  to 
man  than  to  woman ;  though  emergences  may  arise,  as 
they  have,  when  woman  herself  must  forget  her  tender 
ness  and  put  on  soldiers'  panoply ;  and  when  it  has 
come,  never  has  she  been  found  wanting.  Her  prompt 
ness  to  believe  that  which  is  good  and  pure,  has  been 
equalled  by  her  fortitude  and  patience  in  suffering  for  it. 

You  will  soon  see  Vabnlathus.  He  will  visit  you 
before  he  enters  upon  his  great  office.  By  him  I  shall 
wrte  to  you  soon  again.  FarewelJ 


AUEELIAN; 


ROME    IN    THE    THIRD    CENTURA 


AURE  L  I  AN. 


LETTER    VIII. 

FROM     P1SO     TO     FAUSTA. 

MARCUS  and  Lucilia  are  inconsolable.  Their  grief,  I 
fear,  will  be  lasting  as  it  is  violent.  They  have  no  re 
source  but  to  plunge  into  affairs  and  drive  away  memory 
by  some  active  and  engrossing  occupation.  Yet  they 
cannot  always  live  abroad  ;  they  must  at  times  return 
to  themselves  and  join  the  company  of  their  own 
thoughts.  And  then,  memory  is  not  to  be  put  off;  at 
such  moments  this  faculty  seems  to  constitute  the  mind 
more  than  any  other.  It  becomes  the  mind  itself.  The 
past  rises  up  in  spite  of  ourselves,  and  overshadows  the 
present.  Whether  its  scenes  have  been  prosperous  or 
afflictive,  but  especially  if  they  have  been  shameful,  do 
they  present  themselves  with  all  the  vividness  of  the  ob 
jects  before  us  and  the  passing  hour,  and  infinite 
ly  increase  our  pains.  We  in  vain  attempt  to  es 
cape.  We  are  prisoners  in  the  hands  of  a  giant.  To 
forget  is  not  in  our  power.  The  will  is  impotent.  The 
!•  VOL.  2. 


6  AURELIAN. 

effort  to  forget  is  often  but  an  effort  to  remember.  Fast 
as  we  fly,  so  fast  the  enemy  of  our  peace  pursues.  Mem 
ory  is  a  companion  who  never  leaves  us — or  never  leaves 
us  long.  It  is  the  true  Nemesis.  Tartarean  regions 
have  no  worse  woes,  nor  the  Hell  of  Christians,  than 
memory  inflicts  upon  those  who  have  done  evil.  My 
friends  struggle  in  vain.  They  have  not  done  evil  in 
deed,  but  they  have  suffered  it.  The  sorest  calamity 
that  afflicts  mortals  has  overtaken  them  ;  their  choicest 
jewel  has  been  torn  from  them  ;  and  they  can  no  more 
drown  the  memory  of  their  loss  than  they  can  take  that 
faculty  itself  and  tear  it  from  their  souls.  Comfort  can 
not  come  from  that  quarter.  It  can  come  only  from 
being  re-possessed  of  that  which  has  been  lost  hereafter, 
and  from  enjoying  the  hope  of  that  felicity  now.  See 
how  Marcus  writes.  After  much  else,  he  says, 

*  I  miss  you,  Piso,  and  the  conversations  which  we 
had  together.  I  know  not  how  it  is,  but  your  presence 
acted  as  a  restraint  upon  my  hot  and  impatient  temper. 
Since  your  departure  I  have  been  little  less  than  mad, 
and  so  far  from  being  of  service  to  Lucilia,  she  has  been 
compelled  to  moderate  her  own  grief  in  the  hope  to  as 
suage  mine.  I  have  done  nothing  but  rave,  and  curse 
my  evil  fortune.  And  can  anything  else  be  looked  for  ? 
How  should  a  man  be  otherwise  than  exasperated  when 
the  very  thing  he  loves  best  in  the  wide  universe  is, 
without  a  moment's  warning,  snatched  away  from  him  ? 
A  man  falls  into  a  passion  if  his  seal  is  stolen,  or  his 
rings,  or  his  jewels,  if  his  dwelling  burns  down,  or  his 
slaves  run  away  or  die  by  some  pestilence.  And  why 
should  he  not  much  more  when  the  providence  of  the 
gods,  or  the  same  power  whatever  it  may  be  that  gave 


AURELIAN.  7 

as  a  child,  tears  it  from  us  again  ;  and  just  then  when 
we  have  so  grown  into  it  that  it  is  like  hewing  us  in 
two  ?  I  can  believe  in  nothing  but  capricious  chance. 
We  live  by  chance,  and  so  \ve  die.  Such  events  are 
otherwise  inexplicable.  For  what  reason  can  by  the 
most  ingenious  be  assigned  for  giving  life  for  a  few  years 
to  a  being  like  Gallus,  and  who  then,  before  he  is  more 
than  just  past  the  threshold  of  life,  before  a  single  power 
of  his  nature  has  put  itself  forth,  but  at  the  moment 
when  he  is  bound  to  his  parents  by  ties  of  love  whirh 
never  afterwards  would  be  stronger  —  is  struck  dead  ? 
We  can  give  no  account  of  it.  It  is  irreconcilable  witH 
the  hypothesis  of  an  intelligent  and  good  Providence 
It  has  all  the  features  of  chance  upon  it.  A  god  coul<^ 
not  have  done  it  unless  he  had  been  the  god  of  Tartarus 
Dark  Pluto  might,  or  the  avenging  Furies,  were  they  su 
preme.  But  away  with  all  such  dreams  !  The  slaves 
who  were  his  proper  attendants,  have  been  scourged  and 
crucified.  That  at  first  gave  me  some  relief  ;  but  al 
ready  I  repent  it.  So  it  is  with  me  ;  I  rush  suddenly 
upon  what  at  the  moment  I  think  right,  and  then  as  sud 
denly  think  and  feel  that  I  have  done  wrong,  and  so 
suffer.  I  see  and  experience  nothing  but  suffering, 
whichever  way  I  turn.  Truly  we  are  riddles.  Piso,  you 
cannot  conceive  of  my  loss.  It  was  our  only  child  — 
and  the  only  one  we  shall  ever  know.  I  wish  that  I 
believed  in  the  gods  that  I  might  curse  them.' 

And  much  more  in  the  same  frantic  way.  Time  will 
blunt  his  grief  ;  but  it  will  bring  him  I  fear  no  other  or 
better  comfort.  He  hopes  for  oblivion  of  his  loss  ;  but 
that  can  never  be.  He  may  cease  to  grieve  as  he  grieves 
now;  but  he  can  never  cease  to  remember.  I  trust  to 


8  A  tTRELI  AN. 

see  him  again  ere  long,  and  turn  his   thoughts  into  a 
better  channel. 

I  did  not  forget  to  keep  my  promise  to  the  wife  of 
Macer.  In  truth  I  had  long  regarded  it  as  essential  to 
our  safety  almost,  certainly  to  our  success,  that  this  man, 
and  others  of  the  same  character,  should  be  restrained  in 
some  way  in  their  course  of  mistaken  zeal  ;  and  had 
long  intended  to  use  what  influence  to  that  end  I  might 
possess.  Probus  had  promised  to  accompany  me,  and 
do  what  in  him  lay,  to  rescue  religion  from  this  peril  at 
the  hands  of  one  of  her  best  friends.  He  joined  me  to 
ward  the  evening  of  the  same  day  on  which  I  had  seen  the 
wife  of  Macer,  and  we  took  our  way  toward  his  dwelling 

It  was  already  past  the  hour  of  twilight  when  we 
reached  the  part  of  the  city  where  Macer  dwells,  and 
entered  the  ruins  among  which  his  cabin  stands.  These 
ruins  are  those  of  extensive  and  magnificent  baths  de 
stroyed  a  long  time  ago,  and  to  this  day  remaining  as 
the  flames  left  them.  At  the  rear  of  them,  far  from  the 
street  and  concealed  from  it  by  arches  and  columns  and 
fragments  of  wall,  we  were  directed  by  the  rays  of  a 
lamp  streaming  from  a  window,  to  the  place  we  sought. 
We  wound  our  way  among  these  fallen  or  still  standing 
masses  of  stone,  which  frequently  hid  from  us  the  object 
of  our  search,  till,  as  we  found  ourselves  near  the  spot, 
we  were  arrested  by  the  sound  of  a  single  voice  uttering 
itself  with  vehemence  and  yet  solemnity.  We  paused, 
but  could  not  distinguish  the  words  used  ;  but  the  same 
conviction  possessed  us  as  to  its  cause.  It  was  Macer  at 
prayer.  We  moved  nearer,  so  that,  without  disturbing 
the  family,  we  might  still  make  ourselves  of  the  number 


AURELIAN  .  9 

of  hearers.  His  voice,  loud  and  shrill,  echoed  among 
the  ruins  and  conveyed  to  us,  though  at  some  dis 
tance,  every  word  that  he  uttered.  But  for  the  noise 
of  carriages  and  passengers  it  would  have  penetrated 
even  to  the  streets.  The  words  we  caught  were  such 
as  these  — 

—  *  If  they  hear  thee  not,  O  Lord,  nor  reverence  thy 
messengers,  but  deny  thee  and  turn  upon  those  whom 
thou  sendest  the  lip  of  scorn  and  the  eye  of  pride,  and 
will  none  of  their  teachings,  and  so  do  despite  to  the 
spirit  of  thy  grace,  and  crucify  the  Lord  afresh,  then  do 
thou,  O  Lord,  come  upon  them  as  once  upon  the  cities 
of  the  plain  in  the  times  of  thine  anger.  Let  fire  from 
Heaven  consume  them.  Let  the  earth  yawn  and  swal 
low  them  up.  Tear  up  the  foundations  of  this  modern 
Babylon  ;  level  to  the  earth  her  proud  walls  ;  and  let 
her  stand  for  a  reproach,  and  a  hissing,  and  a  scorn, 
through  all  generations  ;  so  that  men  shall  say  as  they 
pass  by,  lo  !  the  fate  of  them  that  held  to  their  idols 
rather  than  serve  the  living  God  ;  their  proud  palaces 
are  now  dwellings  of  dragons,  and  over  her  ruins  the 
trees  of  the  forest  are  now  spreading  their  branches. 
But  yet,  O  Lord,  may  this  never  be  ;  but  may  a  way  of 
escape  be  made  for  them  through  thy  mercy.  And  to  this 
end  may  we  thy  servants,  to  whom  thou  hast  given  the 
sword  of  the  spirit,  gird  it  upon  our  sides,  lift  up  our 
voices  and  spare  not,  day  and  nigbt,  morning  and  even 
ing,  in  the  public  place,  and  at  the  corners  of  the  streets  ; 
in  all  places,  and  in  every  presence,  proclaiming  the 
good  news  of  salvation.  Let  not  cowardice  seal  our 
lips.  Whether  before  gentile  or  jew,  emperor  or  slave, 
may  we  speak  as  becomes  the  Lord's  anointed.  Warm 


10  AURELIAN. 

the  hearts  of  the  cold  and  dead  ;  put  fire  into  them  ; 
fire  from  thine  own  altar.  The  world,  0  Lord,  and  its 
honors  and  vanities,  seduce  thine  own  servants  from 
thee.  They  are  afraid,  they  are  cold,  they  are  dead, 
and  the  enemy  lifts  himself  up  and  triumphs.  For  this 
we  would  mourn  and  lament.  Give  us,  O  Lord,  the 
courage  and  the  zeal  of  thine  early  apostles  arid  teachers 
so  that  no  fear  of  tortures  and  death  may  make  us 
traitors  to  Christ  and  thee.' 

It  was  a  long  time  that  he  went  on  in  this  strain,  in 
veighing,  with  heat  and  violence,  against  all  who  with 
drew  their  hand  from  the  work,  or  abated  their  zeal. 
When  he  had  ceased,  and  we  stood  waiting  to  judge 
whether  the  service  were  wholly  ended,  the  voices  of 
the  whole  family  apparently,  were  joined  together  in  a 
hymn  of  praise  —  Macer's  now  more  gentle  and  sub 
dued,  as  if  to  hear  himself  the  tones  of  the  children  and 
of  his  wife  who  accompanied  him.  The  burden  of  the 
hymn  was  also  a  prayer  for  a  spirit  of  fidelity  and  a 
temper  of  patience,  in  the  cause  of  truth  and  Christ.  It 
was  worship  in  the  highest  sense,  and  none  within  the 
dwelling  could  have  joined  more  heartily  than  we  did 
who  stood  without. 

When  it  was  ended,  and  with  it  evidently  the  evening 
service,  we  approached,  and  knocked  for  admittance. 
Macer  appeared  holding  a  light  above  his  head,  and  per 
ceiving  who  his  guests  were,  gave  us  cordial  welcome, 
at  the  same  time  showing  us  into  his  small  apartment 
and  placing  stools  for  our  accommodation.  The  room 
in  which  we  were  was  small  and  vaulted,  and  built  of 
stone  in  the  most  solid  manner.  I  saw  at  once  that  it 
was  one  of  the  smaller  rooms  of  the  ancient  bath,  which 


AU  R  E  L I AN  .  11 

had  escaped  entire  destruction  and  now  served  as  a  com 
fortable  habitation.  A  door  on  the  inner  side  appeared 
to  connect  it  with  a  number  of  similar  apartments.  A 
table  in  the  centre  and  a  few  stools,  a  shelf  on  which 
were  arranged  the  few  articles  which  they  possessed 
both  for  cooking  and  eating  their  food,  constituted  the 
furniture  of  the  room.  In  the  room  next  beyond  I  could 
see  pallets  of  straw  laid  upon  the  floor,  which  served  for 
beds.  Macer,  his  wife,  and  six  children,  composed  the 
family  then  present ;  the  two  elder  sons  being  yet  ab 
sent  at  their  work,  in  the  shop  of  Demetrius.  The 
mother  held  at  her  breast  an  infant  of  a  year  or  more  ; 
one  of  three  years  sprang  again  upon  his  father's  lap,  as 
he  resumed  his  seat  after  our  entrance,  whence  he  had 
apparently  been  just  dislodged  ;  the  rest,  sitting  in  obscure 
parts  of  the  room,  were  at  first  scarcely  visible.  The  wife 
of  Macer  expressed  heartily  her  pleasure  at  seeing  us, 
and  said  even  more  by  her  flushed  and  animated  coun 
tenance  than  by  her  words.  The  severe  countenance  of 
Macer  himself  relaxed  and  gave  signs  of  satisfaction. 

* 1  owe  you,  Piso,'  he  said,  '  many  thanks  for  mercies 
shown  to  my  wife  and  my  little  ones  here,  and  I  am 
glad  to  see  you  among  us.  We  are  far  apart  enough  as 
the  world  measures  such  things,  but  in  Christ  we  are 
one.  At  such  times  as  these,  when  the  Prince  of  Dark 
ness  rules,  we  ought  if  ever  to  draw  toward  each  other, 
that  so  we  may  make  better  our  common  defence.  I 
greet  you  as  a  brother  —  I  trust  to  love  you  as  one.' 

I  told  him  that  nothing  should  be  wanting  on  my 
part  toward  a  free  and  friendly  intercourse  ;  that  from 
all  I  had  heard  of  him  I  had  conceived  a  high  regard 
for  him,  and  owed  him  more  thanks  for  what  he  had 


12  A  D  RE  LI  AN. 

done  in  behalf  of  our  religion,  than  he  could  me  for  any 
services  I  had  rendered  him. 

*  Me  ? '  said  he,  and  his  head  fell   upon    his   bosom. 
4  What  have  I  done  for  Christ  to  deserve   the   thanks  of 
any  ?     I  have  preached  and  I  have  prayed  ;  I  have  op 
posed  heresies  and  errors  ;    I  have  wrestled    with    the 
enemies  and  corrupters  of  our  faith  within  our  own  body 
and  without ;  but  the  fruit  seems  nothing.     The  gentile 
is  still  omnipotent  —  heresy  and  error  still  abound.' 

*  Yes,  Macer,'   I  replied,   *  that   is    certainly   so,  and 
may  be  so  for  many   years   to   come,   but   still  we  are 
gaining.     He  who  can  remember  twenty  years  can  count 
a  great  increase.     After   the    testimony    borne  by    the 
martyrs  of  the  Decian  persecution  to  their  faith,  and  all 
the  proof  they  gave  of  sincere  attachment  to  the  doctrine 
of  Christ,  crowds  have  entered  the  church,  an   hundred 
for  every  one  whose  blood  then  flowed.' 

'  And  now,'  said  Macer,  his  eye  kindling  with  its  wild 
fires,  « the  church  is  dead  !  The  truest  prayer  that  the 
Christian  can  now  offer  is,  that  it  would  please  God  to 
try  us  again  as  it  were  by  fire  !  We  slumber,  Piso  ! 
The  Christians  are  not  now  the  Nazarites  they  were  in 
the  first  age  of  the  church.  Divisions  have  crept  in  ; 
tares  have  been  sown  with  the  wheat,  and  have  come 
up,  and  are  choking  the  true  plants  of  God.  I  know 
not  but  that  the  signs  of  terror  which  are  scaring  the 
heavens  ought  rather  to  be  hailed  as  tokens  of  love.  Bet 
ter  a  thousand  perish  on  the  rack  or  by  the  axe,  than 
that  the  church  itself  faint  away  and  die.' 

*  It  will  not  do,'  said  Probus,  *  always  to  depend  upon 
such  remedies  of  our  sloth  and  heresies.     Surely  it  were 
better  to  prosper  in  some  other  and  happier  way.     All  I 


A  URELi  AN.  13 

think  we  can  say  of  persecution,  and  of  the  oppositions 
of  our  enemies,  is  this,  that  if  it  be  in  the  providence  of 
God  that  they  cannot  be  avoided,  we  have  cause  to  bless 
him  that  their  issue  is  good  rather  than  evil  ;  that  they 
serve  as  tests  by  which  the  genuiue  is  tried  and  proved  ; 
that  they  give  the  best  and  highest  testimony  to  the 
world  that  man  can  give,  of  his  sincerity  ;  that  they 
serve  to  bind  together  into  one  compact  and  invincible 
phalanx  the  disciples  of  our  common  master,  however 
in  many  things  they  may  divide  and  separate.  But, 
were  it  not  better,  if  we  could  attain  an  equal  good 
without  the  suffering  ?  ' 

*  I  believe  that  to  be  impossible,'  said  Macer.     *  Since 
Jesus  began  his   ministry,  persecution  has  been  the  rod 
that  has  been  laid  upon  the  church  without  sparing,  and 
the  fruit  has  been   abundant.     Without   it,  like    these 
foolish  children,  we  might  run  riot  in  all  iniquity.' 

*  I  do  not  say  that  the  rod  has  not  been    needed,'  an 
swered  Probus,  *  nor  that  good  has  not  ensued  ;  but  only, 
that  it  would  be  better,  wiser,  and  happier,  to  reach  the 
same  good  without  the  rod  ;  just  as  it   is   better   when 
your  children,  without  chastisement,  fulfil   your   wishes 
and  perform  their  tasks.     We  hope  and  trust   that  our 
children  will  grow  up  to  such  virtue,  that  they    will   no 
longer  need  the  discipline  of  suffering  to  make  them  bet 
ter.     Ought  we  not  to  look  and    pray   for   a    period    to 
arrive  in  the  history  of  the  church,  when  men  shall  no 
longer  need  to  be  lashed  and  driven,  but  shall   of  them 
selves  discern  what  is  best  and  cleave  to  it  ? ' 

'  That  might  indeed  be  better,'  replied  the  other ;  *  but 
the  tune  is  not  come  for  it  yet.     The   church   I   say   it 
2         VOL.  n. 


14  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

corrupt,  and  it  cries  out  for  another  purging.  Christians 
are  already  lording  it  over  one  another.  The  bishop  of 
Rome  sets  himself  up,  as  a  lord,  over  subjects.  A  Ro 
man  Caesar  walks  it  not  more  proudly.  What  with  his 
robes  of  state,  and  his  seat  of  gold,  and  his  golden  rod, 
and  his  altar  set  out  with  vessels  of  gold  and  silver, 
and  his  long  train  of  menials  and  subordinates,  poor 
simple  Macer,  who  learned  of  Christ,  as  he  hopes,  is  at 
a  loss  to  discern  the  follower  of  the  lowly  Jesus,  but 
takes  Felix,  the  Christian  servant,  for  some  Fronto  of  i\ 
Heathen  temple  !  Were  the  power  mine,  as  the  will  is, 
never  would  I  stay  for  Aurelian.but  my  own  arm  should 
sweep*  from  the  places  they  pollute  the  worst  enemies  of 
the  Saviour.  Did  Jesus  die  that  Felix  might  flaunt  his 
peacock's  feathers  in  the  face  of  Rome  ? ' 

*  We  cannot  hope,  Macer,'  answered  Probus,  « to  grow 
up  to  perfection  at  once.     I  see  and  bewail  the  errors  at 
which  you  point  as  well  as  you.     But  if,  to  remove  them, 
we  bring  down  the  heavy  arm  of  Rome  upon  our  heads 
—  the  remedy  may  prove  worse  than  the  disease.' 

*  No.     That  could  not  be  !     Let  those  who  with  open 
eyes  abuse  the  gifts  of  God,  perish  !     If  this  faith  can 
not  be  maintained  undefiled  by  Heathen  additions,  let  it 
perish  ! ' 

'  But  God  dealeth  not  so  with  us,'  continued  Probus  ; 
*  he  beareth  long  and  patiently.  We  are  not  destroyed 
because  in  the  first  years  of  our  life  we  do  not  rise  to  all 
virtue,  but  are  spared  to  fourscore.  Ought  we  not  to 
manifest  a  like  patience  and  forbearance  ?  By  waiting 
patiently  we  shall  see  our  faults,  and  one  by  one  correct 
them.  There  is  still  some  reason  and  discernment  left 
among  us.  We  are  not  all  fools  and  blind.  And  the 


A  U  RE  L  I  A  N.  15 

faults  which  we  correct  ourselves,  by  our  own  action, 
and  the  conviction  of  our  own  minds  acting  freely  and 
voluntarily,  will  be  more  truly  corrected,  than  if  we  are 
but  frightened  away  from  them  for  a  time  by  the  terrors 
of  the  Roman  sword.  I  think,  Macer,  and  so  thinks 
Piso,  that,  far  from  seeking  to  inflame  the  common 
mind,  and  so  drawing  upon  us  the  evils  which  are  now 
with  reason  apprehended,  we  should  rather  aim  to  ward 
them  off.' 

1  Never  !'  cried  Macer  with  utmost  indignation.  '  Shall 
the  soldier  of  the  cross  shrink  — ' 

*  No,  Macer,  he  need  not  shrink.     Let  him  stand  armed 
in  panoply  complete  ;    prompt  to  serve,   willing  to  die  ; 
but  let  him  not   wantonly  provoke  an  enemy  who  may 
not  only  destroy  him,  that  were  a  little  thing,  but,  in  the 
fury  of  the  onset,  thousands  with  him,  and,  perhaps,  with 
them  the  very  faith  for  which  they  die  !     The  Christian 
is  not  guiltless  who  —  though  it  be  in    the    cause    of 
Christ  —  rushes  upon  unnecessary  death.     You,  Macer, 
are  not  only  a  Christian  and  soldier  of  Jesus  Christ,  but 
a  man,  who,  having  received  life  from  the  Creator,  have 
no  right  wantonly  to  throw   it   away.     You  are  a  hus 
band,  and  you  are  bound  to  live  for  your  wife  ;  —  these 
are  your  children,  and  you  are  bound  to  live  for  them.' 

'  He,'  said  Macer,  solemnly,  *  who  hateth  not  father 
and  mother  and  wife  and  children  and  brethren  and  sis 
ter,  yea  and  his  own  life  also,  cannot  be  my  disciple.' 

*  Yes,'  replied  Probus,  *  that   is  true  ;    we  are  to  be 
ready  and  willing  lo  suffer  for  Christ  and  truth  ;  but  not 
to  seek  it.     He  who  seeks   martyrdom    is   no   martyr. 
Selfish  passions  have  then  mingled  their  impure  current 
with  that  of  love  to  God,  and  the  sacrifice  is  not  without 


16  AURELIAN. 

spot  and  blemish.  Jesus  did  not  so  ;  nor  hjs  first  fol 
lowers.  When  the  Lord  was  persecuted  in  one  city,  he 
staid  not  there  to  inflame  it  more  and  more  ;  he  fled  to 
another.  Paul  and  Peter  and  Barnabas  stood  ever 
for  their  rights  ;  they  suffered  not  wrong  willingly. 
When  the  ark  of  truth  is  intrusted  to  few  hands,  they 
must  bear  it  forward  boldly,  but  with  care,  else  are  they 
at  a  blow  cut  off,  and  the  ark  with  its  precious  burden 
borne  away  and  lost  —  or  miracles  alone  can  rescue  it. 
But  when  the  time  comes  that  no  prudence  or  care  will 
avail,  then  they  may  not  refuse  the  issue,  but  must  show 
that  life  is  nothing  in  comparison  of  truth  and  God.' 

*  Probus,'  said  Macer,  *  I  like  not  your  timid  counsels. 
•'Tis  not  by  such  that  Christ's  cause  shall  ever  advance, 
or  that  period  ever  come  when  he,  the  long-looked  and 
waited  for,  shall  descend,  and  the  millenial  reign  begin. 
Life  is  nothing  to  me  and  less  than  nothing.  I  hold  it 
as  dirt  and  dross.  And  if  by  throwing  it  away  I  can 
add  such  a  commentary  to  my  preaching  as  shall  strike 
a  single  Pagan  heart,  I  shall  not  have  died  in  vain  ;  and 
if  the  blood  that  shall  flow  from  these  veins,  may  serve 
but  as  a  purge,  to  carry  off  the  foul  humors  that  now 
fester  and  rage  in  the  body  of  the  church,  thrice  happy 
shall  I  be  to  see  it  flow.  And  for  these  —  let  them  be 
as  the  women  and  children  of  other  times,  and  hold  not 
back  when  their  master  calls.  Arria  !  do  thou  set  be 
fore  thee  St.  Blandina,  and  if  the  Lord  let  thee  be  as 
her,  thou  wilt  have  cause  to  bless  his  name.' 

4  Never,  Macer,  would  I  shrink  from  any  trial  to 
which  the  Lord  in  his  wisdom  might  call  me  —  that  you 
know.  But  has  not  Probus  uttered  a  truth,  when  he 
says,  that  we  are  not  innocent,  and  never  glorious,  when 


AURELIAN.  17 

we  seek  death  ?  that  he  who  seeks  martyrdom  is  no 
martyr  ?  Listen,  Macer,  to  the  wisdom  of  Probus  and 
the  noble  Piso.  Did  you  not  promise  that  you  would 
patiently  hear  them  ?  ' 

*  Woman  —  I   have    heard   them  —  their    words    are 
naught,  stark  naught,   or  worse.     Where    would  have 
been  the  blessed  gospel  at  this  hour,  had  it  been  commit 
ted  to  such  counsels  ?     Even  under  Nero  would  it  have 
died  for  want  of  those  who  were  willing  to  die  for  it.     J 
am  a  soldier  of  the  cross,  whose  very  vocation  it  is  to 
fight  and  die.     And  if  I  may  but  die,  blessed  Jesus,  for 
thee  !  then  may  I  hope  that  thou    wilt  deal  mercifully 
with  thy  servant  at  thy  judgment-seat.     I  hear  thy  voice 
ever  sounding  in  my  ear,  reproving  me  for  my  coward 
ice.     Have  patience  with  me,  and  I  will   give  thee  all. 
And  if  labor,  and  torture,  and  death,  would  but   cancel 
sin  !  —  But  alas  !  even  they  may  not  suffice.' 

*  Then,  dear  father,'  said  one  of  his   daughters  who 
had  drawn  near  and  seated   herself  at  his  knee,  while 
the  others  had  gathered  round,  *  then  will  we  add  our 
selves  to  the  sacrifice.' 

*  Would  you  ?'  said    Macer  —  in   an    absent,  musing 
way  —  as  if  some  other  thought  were  occupying  him. 

Thinking  that  his  love  of  his  children,  evidently  a 
very  strong  affection  in  him,  might  be  made  to  act  as  a 
restraint,  I  said,  *  that  I  feared  he  greatly  exposed  his 
little  family  to  unnecessary  danger.  Already  had  his 
dwelling  been  once  assailed,  and  the  people  were  now 
ripe  for  any  violence.  This  group  of  little  ones  can  ill 
encounter  a  rude  and  furious  mob.' 

'  They  can  die,  can  they  not  ?'  said  Macer.     '  Is  that 

2*  VOL.  II. 


18  AU  RE  LI  A  N  . 

difficult,  or  impossible  ?  If  the  Lord  need  them,  they 
are  his.  I  can  ask  no  happier  lot  for  them  than  that  by 
death  they  may  glorify  God.  And  what  is  it  to  die  so, 
more  than  in  another  way  ?  Let  them  die  in  their  beds, 
and  whom  do  they  benefit  ?  They  die  then  to  them 
selves,  and  no  one  is  the  gainer  ;  let  them  die  by  the 
sword  of  Varus,  or  by  the  stones  of  the  populace,  and 
then  they  become  themselves  stones  in  the  foundation 
of  that  temple  of  God,  of  which  Jesus  is  '..he  chief 
corner-stone,  and  they  are  glorious  forever.  What  say 
you,  Cicer,  will  you  die  for  Christ  ? ' 

The  little  fellow  hid  his  head  in  his  father's  bosom  at 
this  sudden  appeal,  but  soon  drew  it  out  and  said, 

'  I  would  rather  die  for  you,  father.' 

I  Ah  !  '  said  Macer,    *  how  am  I  punished  in  my  chil 
dren  !     Cicer,  would  you  not  die  for  Christ  ?  ' 

I 1  would  die  for  him  if  you  wish  it.' 

1  Macer,'  said  Probus,  '  do  you  not  see  how  God  has 
bound  you  and  this  family  into  one  ?  and  he  surely  re 
quires  you  not  to  separate  yourself,  their  natural  pro 
tector,  from  them  forever  ;  still  less,  to  involve  them  in 
all  the  sufferings  which,  taking  the  course  you  do,  may 
come  upon  them  at  any  hour." 

'  Probus  !  their  death  would  give  me  more  pleasure 
than  their  life,  dying  for  Christ.  I  love  them  now  and 
here,  fondly  as  ever  parent  loved  his  children,  —  but 
what  is  now,  and  here  ?  Nothing.  The  suffering  of 
an  hour  or  of  a  moment  joins  us  together  again,  where 
suffering  shall  be  no  more,  and  death  no  more.  To 
morrow  !  yes,  to-morrow  !  would  I  that  the  wrath  of 
these  idol-worshippers  might  be  turned  against  us, 
Home  must  be  roused  ;  she  sleeps  the  sleep  of  death  ; 


AUR  E  LIA  N  .  19 

and  the  church  sleeps  it  too  ;  both  need  that  they  who 
are  for  the  Lord  should  stand  forth,  and,  not  waiting  to 
be  attacked,  themselves  assail  the  enemy,  who  need 
but  to  be  assailed  with  the  zeal  and  courage  of  men, 
who  were  once  to  be  found  in  the  church,  to  be  driven 
at  all  points.' 

'  But,  father,'  said  the  daughter  who  had  spoken  be 
fore,  '  other  Christians  think  not  so.  They  believe  for 
the  most  part,  as  I  hear,  with  Probus  and  Piso,  that  on 
no  account  should  we  provoke  the  gentiles,  or  give  them 
cause  of  complaint  against  us  ;  they  think  that  to  do  so 
would  greatly  harm  us  ;  that  our  duty  is  to  go  on  the 
even  tenor  of  our  way,  worshipping  God  after  our  own 
doctrine,  and  in  our  own  manner,  and  claiming  and  ex 
ercising  all  our  rights  as  citizens,  but  abstaining  from 
every  act  that  might  rouse  their  anger,  or  needlessly  ir 
ritate  them  —  irritated,  necessarily,  almost  beyond  bearing, 
by  the  wide  and  increasing  prosperity  of  our  faith,  and 
the  daily  falling  away  of  the  temple  worshippers.  Would 
it  be  right,  dearest  father,  to  do  that  which  others  ap 
proved  not,  and  the  effect  of  which  might  be,  not  only  to 
draw  down  evil  upon  your  and  our  heads,  but  upon 
thousands  of  others  ?  We  cannot  separate  ourselves 
from  our  brethren  ;  if  one  suffer  all  will  suffer —  ' 

'  .ZElia,  my  daughter,  there  is  a  judge  within  the 
breast,  whom  I  am  bound  to  obey  rather  than  any  other 
counsellor,  either  man  or  woman.  I  cannot  believe,  be 
cause  another  believes,  a  certain  truth.  Neither  can  I 
act  in  a  certain  way  because  others  hold  it  their  duty  to 
act  so.  I  must  obey  the  inward  voice,  and  no  other.  If 
I  abandon  this,  I  am  lost  —  I  am  on  the  desert  without 
sun,  moon  or  stars  to  guide  me.  All  the  powers  of 


20  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N. 

the  earth  could  not  bribe  nor  drag  me  from  that  which  I 
hold  to  be  the  true  order  of  conduct  for  me  ;  shown  by 
the  finger  of  God  to  be  such.' 

'  But,  father,'  continued  the  daughter,  pursuing  her 
object,  '  are  we  not  too  lately  entered  among  the  Chris 
tians  to  take  upon  us  a  course  which  they  condemn  ?  It 
is  but  yesterday  that  we  were  among  the  enemies  of 
this  faith.  Are  we  to-day  to  assume  the  part  of  lead 
ers  ?  Would  not  modesty  teach  us  a  different  lesson  ?' 

'  Modesty  has  nothing  to  do  with  truth,'  said  Macer. 
*  He  who  is  wholly  a  Christian  to-day,  is  all  that  he  can 
be  to-morrow,  or  next  year.  I  am  as  old  in  faith  and 
zeal  as  Piso,  Probus,  or  Felix.  No  one  can  believe 
more,  or  more  heartily,  by  believing  longer.  Nay,  it 
is  they  who  are  newly  saved  who  are  most  sensible  to 
the  blessing.  Custom  in  religion  as  in  other  things 
dulls  the  soul.  Were  I  a  Christian  much  longer  before 
God  called  me  to  serve  him  by  suffering  or  death,  I  fear 
I  should  be  then  spiritually  dead,  and  so  worse  than 
before  I  believed.  Let  it  be  to-morrow,  O  Lord,  that  I 
shall  glorify  thee  ! ' 

It  was  plain  that  little  impression  was  to  be  made 
upon  the  mind  of  Macer.  But  we  ceased  not  to  urge 
him  farther,  his  wife  and  elder  children  uniting  with  us 
in  importunate  entreaty  and  expostulation.  But  all  in 
vain.  In  his  stern  and  honest  enthusiasm  he  believed 
all  prudence,  cowardice  ;  all  calculation,  worldliness  ; 
all  moderation,  and  temperance,  treason  to  the  church 
and  Christ.  Yet  none  of  the  natural  current  of  the  affec 
tions  seemed  to  be  dried  up  or  poisoned.  No  one  could 
be  more  bound  to  his  wife  and  children  ;  and,  toward  us, 
though  in  our  talk  we  spared  him  not,  he  ever  main* 


AtTRELIAN.  21 

tained  the  same  frank  and  open  manner — yielding  never 
an  inch  of  ground,  and  uttering  himself  with  an  earnest 
ness  and  fury  such  as  I  never  saw  in  another  ;  but,  soon 
as  he  had  ceased  speaking,  subsiding  into  a  gentleness 
that  seemed  almost  that  of  a  woman,  and  playfully 
sporting  with  the  little  boy  that  he  held  on  his  knee. 

Soon  as  our  conversation  was  ended,  Macer,  turning 
to  his  wife,  exclaimed, 

'  But  what  hinders  that  we  should  set  before  our  vis- 
iters  such  hospitality  as  our  poor  house  affords  ?  Arria, 
have  we  not  such  as  may  well  enough  entertain  Chris 
tians  ? ' 

JElia,  at  a  word  from  her  mother,  and  accompanied 
by  her  sister,  immediately  busied  themselves  in  the  sim 
ple  rites  of  hospitality,  and  soon  covered  the  table  which 
stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room  with  bread,  lettuces,  figs, 
and  a  flask  of  wine.  While  they  were  thus  engaged,  I 
could  not  but  observe  the  difference  in  appearance  of 
the  two  elder  sisters,  who,  with  equal  alacrity,  were  set 
ting  out  the  provisions  for  our  repast.  One  was  clad 
like  the  others  of  the  family  in  the  garments  common 
to  the  poor.  The  other  —  she  who  had  spoken  —  was 
arrayed,  not  richly,  but  almost  so,  or,  I  should  rather 
say,  fancifully,  and  with  studied  regard  to  effect. 
While  I  was  wondering  at  this,  and  seeking  in  my  own 
mind  for  its  explanation,  I  was  interrupted  in  my 
thoughts  by  Macer. 

*  Thanks  to  Aurelian,  Piso,  we  are  able,  though  poor, 
as  you  see,  and  dwelling  in  these  almost  subterranean 
vaults,  to  live  above  the  fear  of  absolute  want.  But  es 
pecially  are  we  indebted  for  many  of  our  comforts,  and 
for  such  luxury  as  this  flask  of  Massican,  to  my  partly 


22  AURELIAN. 

gentile  daughter,  JElia,  whom  you  behold  me  v ing 
among  us,  as  if  by  her  attire  she  were  not  of  us  —  but 
Cicer's  heart  is  not  truer — and  who  will,  despite  her 
faith  and  her  father's  bidding,  dance  and  sing  for  the 
merriment  of  these  idolaters.  Never  before,  t  believe, 
had  Christian  preacher  a  dancing-girl  for  a  daughter.' 

A  deep  blush  passed  over  the  features  of  the  daugh 
ter  as  she  answered, 

4  But,  father,  you  know  that  in  my  judgment  —  and 
whose  in  this  matter  is  so  to  be  trusted  ?  —  I  am  in  no 
way  injured  by  my  art,  and  it  adds  somewhat  to  the 
common  stock.  I  see  not  why  I  need  be  any  the  less  a 
Christian,  because  I  dance  ;  especially,  as  with  me,  it  is 
but  one  of  the  forms  of  labor.  Were  it  forbidden  by  our 
faith,  or  could  it  be  shown  to  be  to  me  an  evil,  I  would 
cease.  But  most  sure  I  am  it  is  neither.  Let  me  now 
appeal  to  Probus  for  my  justification,  and  to  Piso.' 

*  Doubtless,'  said  Probus,  '  those  Christians  are  righ\ 
who  abstain  from  the  theatres,  the  amphitheatres,  the 
circuses,  and  from  the  places  of  public  amusement  where 
sights  and  sounds  meet  ear  and  eye  such  as  the  pure 
should  never  hear  or  see,  and  such  as  none  can  hear  or 
see  and  maintain  their  purity.  The  soul  is  damaged 
in  spite  of  herself.  But  for  these  arts  of  music  and  dan 
cing,  practised  for  the  harmless  entertainment  of  those 
who  feast  their  friends, — where  alone  I  warrant  JElia  is 
found  —  who  can  doubt  that  she  is  right?  Were  not 
the  reception  of  the  religion  of  Christ  compatible  with 
indulgence  in  innocent  amusement,  or  the  practice  of 
harmless  arts  such  as  these,  few,  I  fear,  would  receive 
it.  Christianity  condemns  many  things,  which,  by  Pa 
gans,  are  held  to  be  allowable,  but  not  everything.* 


AURELIAN.  23 

1  Willingly  would  I  abandon  my  art,'  said  jElia,  '  did 
I  percive  it  to  injure  the  soul  ;  or  could  I  in  other  ways 
ouy  bread  for  our  household.  So  dearly  do  I  prize  this 
new-found  faith,  that  for  its  sake,  were  it  to  be  retained 
in  no  other  way,  would  I  relinquish  it,  arid  sink  into 
the  deeper  poverty  that  would  then  be  ours,  or  drudge 
at  some  humbler  toil.' 

'  Do  it,  do  it,  jElia,'  said  Macer  ;  '  and  the  Lord  will 
love  thee  all  the  more.  Tis  the  only  spot  on  thy  white 
and  glistering  robes.  The  Lord  loves  not  more  than  I 
to  see  thee  wheeling  and  waving  to  and  fro,  to  supply 
mirth  to  those,  who,  mayhap,  would  crucify  ihee  the 
next  hour,  as  others  crucified  thy  master.' 

Tears  fell  from  the  eyes  of  the  fair  girl  as  she  an 
swered, 

1  Father,  it  shall  be  as  you  wish.  Not  willingly,  but 
by  constraint,  have  I  labored  as  I  have.  God  will  not 
forsake  us,  and  will,  I  cannot  doubt,  open  some  new 
path  of  labor  for  me  —  if  indeed  the  disorders  of  the 
times  do  not  first  scatter  or  destroy  us.' 

I  here  said  to  Macer  and  his  daughter,  that  there 
need  be  no  hesitation  about  abandoning  the  employment 
in  question,  from  any  doubt  concerning  a  future  occupa 
tion  ;  if  JElia  would  but  accompany  her  mother,  when 
next  she  went  to  visit  Julia,  I  could  assure  her  of  ob 
taining  there  all  she  could  desire. 

At  this  the  little  boy,  whom  Macer  held,  clapped  his 
hands  and  cried  out  with  joy  —  *  Ah  !  then  will  JEYia. 
be  always  with  us  and  go  away  no  more  ;  '  and  flying 
to  his  sister  was  caught  by  her  in  her  arms. 

The  joy  diffused  throughout  the  little  circle  at  this 
news  was  great.  All  were  glad  that  jElia  was  to  dance 


*  AU  R  E  LI AN  . 

and  sing  no  more,  for  all  wished  her  at  home,  and  hei 
profession  had  kept  her  absent  almost  every  day.  The 
table  was  now  spread,  and  we  sat  down  to  the  frugal 
repast,  Macer  first  offering  a  prayer  to  God. 

*  It  is  singular,'  said  he,  when  we  were  seated,  '  that  in 
my  Heathen  estate,  I  ever  asked  the  blessing  of  the  gods 
before  I  ate.     Nay,  and   notwithstanding  the  abomina 
tions    of  my    life,   was    often    within    the    temples    a 
worshipper.     I  verily  believe  there  are  many  Christians 
who  pray  less  than  the  Heathen,  and  less  after  they  be 
come  Christian  than  before.' 

*  I  can   readily  believe  it,'  said  Probus.     *  False  re 
ligions  multiply  outward  acts  ;    and  for  the  reason,  that 
they    make   religion   to   consist  in  them.     A  true  faith, 
which  places  religion  in  the  inward  disposition,  not  in 
services,  will  diminish  them.     More  prayers  were  said, 
and  more  rites  performed  in  the  temple  of  Jupiter,  where 
my  father  was  priest,  than  the  Christian  church,  where 
I  serve,  ever  witnesses.     But  what  then  ?     With  the  Pa 
gan  worshipper  religion  ended  when  the  service  closed, 
and  he  turned  from  the  temple  to  the  world.     With  the 
Christian,  the  highest   service    only   then    commences 
when  he   leaves    the  church.     Religion,    with   him,  is 
virtuous  action,  more  than  it   is    meditation   or   prayer. 
He  prays  without  ceasing,  not  by  uttering  wiihout  cessa 
tion  the  language  of  prayer,  but  by  living  holily.    Every 
act  of  every  hour,  which  is    done   conscientiously    is  a 
prayer,  as  well  as  the  words  we  speak,  and  is  more  plea 
sing  to  God,  for  the  reason  that  practice   is  better  than 
mere  profession  —  doing  better  than  saying.' 

'  That   is  just,   Probus,'   replied    Macer.     *  When  I 
prayed  as  an  idolater,  it  was  because  I  believed  that  the 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N.  25 

gods  required  such  outward  acknowledgment,  and  that 
some  evil  or  other  might  befall  me  through  their  ven 
geance,  if  I  did  not.  But  when  I  had  ended  that  duty  I 
had  ended  my  religion,  and  my  vices  went  on  none  the 
less  prosperously.  Often  indeed  my  prayers  were  for 
special  favors,  —  wealth,  or  success  in  some  affair  —  and 
when,  after  wearying  myself  with  repeating  them  a 
thousand  times,  the  favors  were  not  bestowed,  how  have 
I  left  the  temple  in  a  rage,  cursing  the  gods  I  had  just 
been  worshipping,  and  swearing  never  more  to  propitiate 
them  by  prayer  or  sacrifice.  Sometimes  I  repented  of 
such  violence,  but  oftener  kept  my  word  and  tried  some 
other  god.  You,  Probus,  were,  I  may  believe,  of  a  more 
even  temper  ? ' 

'  Yes,  perhaps  so.  My  father  was  one  of  the  most 
patient  and  gentle  of  men,  and  religious  after  the  manner 
of  our  remoter  ancestors  of  the  days  of  the  republic. 
He  was  my  instructer  ;  and  from  him  I  learned  truths 
which  were  sufficient  for  my  happiness  under  ordinary 
circumstances.  I  was  a  devout  and  constant  worshipper 
of  the  gods.  My  every-day  life  may  then  have  been  as 
pure  as  it  has  been  since  I  have  been  a  Christian  ;  and 
my  prayers  as  many  or  more.  The  instincts  of  my  na 
ture,  which  carried  up  the  soul  toward  some  great  and 
infinite  being,  which  I  could  not  resist,  kept  me  within 
the  bounds  of  that  prudent  and  virtuous  life  which  I  be 
lieved  would  be  most  acceptable  to  them.  But  when  a 
day  of  heavy  and  insupportable  calamity  came  upon  me, 
and  I  was  made  to  look  after  the  foundations  of  what  I 
had  been  believing,  I  found  there  were  none.  I  was 
like  a  ship  tossed  about  by  the  storms,  without  rudder 
3  VOL.  n. 


26  AURELIAN. 

or  pilot.  I  then  knew  not  whether  there  were  gods  or 
not  ;  or  if  there  were  any,  who,  among  the  multiplicity 
worshipped  in  Rome,  the  true  ones  were.  In  my  grief, 
I  railed  at  the  heavens  and  their  rulers,  for  not  revealing 
themselves  to  us  in  our  darkness  and  weakness  ;  and 
cursed  them  for  their  cruelty.  Soon  after  I  became  a 
Christian.  The  difference  between  my  state  then,  and 
now,  is  this.  I  believed  then  ;  but  it  was  merely  in 
stinctive.  I  could  give  no  reason  to  myself  nor  to  others 
for  my  faith.  It  was  something  and  yet  nothing.  Now, 
I  have  somewhat  to  stand  upon.  I  can  prove  to  myself, 
and  to  others,  my  religion,  as  well  as  other  things.  I 
have  knowledge  as  well  as  blind  belief.  It  is  good  to 
believe  in  something,  and  in  some  sort,  though  one  can 
give  no  account  of  his  faith  ;  but  it  is  better  to  believe  in 
that  which  we  know,  as  we  know  other  things.  I  have 
now,  as  a  Christian,  the  same  strength  of  belief  in  God, 
providence,  and  futurity, that  I  have  in  any  facts  attested  by 
history.  Jesus  has  announced  them  or  confirmed  them, 
and  they  are  susceptible  of  proof.  I  differed  from  you, 
Macer,  in  this  ;  that  I  cursed  not  the  gods  in  my  passion, 
or  caprice  ;  I  was  for  years  and  years  their  humble,  and 
contented,  and  patient  worshipper.  I  rebelled  not  till  I 
suffered  cruel  disappointment,  and  in  my  faith  could  find 
no  consolation  or  light.  One  real  sorrow,  by  which  the 
foundations  of  my  earthly  peace  were  all  broken  up,  re 
vealed  to  me  the  nothingness  of  my  so  called  religion. 
Into  what  a  new  world,  Macer,  has  our  new  faith  intro 
duced  us  !  I  am  now  happier  than  ever  I  was,  even 
with  my  wife  and  children  around  me.' 

'  Some  of  our  neighbors,'  said  A  'Ha,  '  wonder  what  it 
is  that  makes  us  so   light  of  heart,  notwithstanding  our 


AURELIAN.  27 

poverty  and  the  dangers  to  which  we  are  so  often  ex 
posed.  I  tell  them  that  they,  who,  like  us,  believe  in 
the  providence  of  a  God,  who  is  always  near  us  and 
within  us,  and  in  the  long  reign  with  Christ  as  soon  as 
death  is  past,  have  nothing  to  fear.  That  which  they 
esteem  the  greatest  evil  of  all,  is,  to  us,  an  absolute 
gain.  Upon  this  they  either  silently  wonder,  or  laugh 
and  deride.  However,  many  too  believe.' 

'  Probus,  we  are  all  ready  to  be  offered  up,'  the  enthu 
siast  rejoined.  '  God's  mercy  to  me  is  beyond  all  pow 
er  of  mine  to  describe,  in  that  he  has  touched  and  con 
verted  the  hearts  of  every  one  under  my  roof.  Now  if 
to  this  mercy  he  will  but  add  one  more,  that  we  may 
glorify  him  by  our  death  as  well  as  in  our  life,  the  cup 
of  his  servant  will  be  full  and  running  over.' 

Probus  did  not  choose  again  to  engage  with  his  con 
vert  upon  that  theme,  knowing  him  to  be  beyond  the 
reach  of  influence  and  control.  We  could  not  but  mar 
vel  to  see  to  what  extent  he  had  infused  his  own  enthu 
siasm  into  his  family.  His  wife  indeed  and  elder 
daughters  would  willingly  see  him  calmer  and  less  vio 
lent  when  abroad,  but  like  him,  being  by  nature  of 
warm  temperament,  they  are  like  him  Christians  warm 
and  zealous  beyond  almost  any  whom  I  have  seen. 
They  are  as  yet  also  so  recently  transferred  from  their 
Heathen  to  their  Christian  state,  that  their  sight  is  still 
dazzled,  and  they  see  not  objects  in  their  true  shapes 
and  proportions.  In  their  joy  they  seem  to  others,  and 
perhaps  often  are,  greatly  extravagant  in  the  expression 
of  their  feelings  and  opinions. 

When  our  temperate  repast  was  ended,  Macer  again 
prayed,  and  we  then  separated.  Our  visit  proved  wholly 


29  AtTRELlAN, 

ineffectual  as  to  the  purpose  we  had  in  view,  but  by  nc 
means  so  when  I  consider  the  acquaintance  which  it 
thus  gave  me  with  a  family  in  the  very  humblest  con 
dition,  who  yet  were  holding  and  equally  prizing  the 
same  opinions,  at  which,  after  so  much  research  and  la 
bor,  I  had  myself  arrived.  I  perceived  in  this  power  of 
Christianity  to  adapt  itself  to  minds  so  different  in  their 
state  of  previous  preparation,  and  in  their  ability  to  ex 
amine  and  sift  a  question  which  was  offered  to  them  ; 
in  the  facility  and  quickness  with  which  it  seized  both 
upon  the  understanding  and  the  affections ;  in  the  deep 
convictions  which  it  produced  of  its  own  truth  and  excel 
lence,  and  the  scorn  and  horror  with  which  it  filled  the 
mind  for  its  former  superstitions  —  I  saw  in  this  an  ele 
ment  of  strength,  and  of  dominion,  such  as  even  I  had 
hardly  conceived,  and  which  assures  me  that  this  religion 
is  destined  to  a  universal  empire.  Not  more  certainly 
do  all  men  need  it  than  they  will  have  it.  When  in 
this  manner,  with  everything  against  it,  in  the  habits, 
lives,  and  prejudices  of  men  —  with  itself  almost  against 
itself  in  its  strictness  and  uncompromising  morality  — 
it  nevertheless  forces  its  way  into  minds  of  every  variety 
of  character,  and  diffuses  wherever  it  goes  the  same  in 
ward  happiness  ;  —  its  success  under  such  circumstances 
is  at  once  an  argument  for  its  truth,  and  an  assurance 
that  it  will  pause  in  its  progress  not  till  it  shall  have 
subdued  the  world  to  its  dominion. 

Julia  was  deeply  interested  in  all  that  I  told  her  of 
the  family  of  Macer,  and  will  make  them  all  her  special 
charge.  jElia  will  I  hope  become  in  some  capacity  a 
member  of  our  household. 


AURELIAN.  29 

1  ought  to  tell  you  that  we  have  often  of  late  been  at 
Jie  Gardens,  where  we  have  seen  both  Livia  and  Aure- 
.ian.  Livia  is  the  same,  but  the  Emperor  is  changed.  A 
gloomy  horror  seems  to  sit  upon  him,  which  both  indis 
poses  him  to  converse  as  formerly,  and  others  to  converse 
with  him.  Especially  has  he  shown  himself  averse  to 
discussion  of  any  point  that  concerns  the  Christians,  at 
least  with  me.  When  I  would  willingly  have  drawn 
him  that  way,  he  has  shrunk  from  it  with  an  expression 
of  distaste,  or  with  more  expressive  silence,  or  the  dark 
language  of  his  terrific  frown.  For  me  however  he  has 
no  terrors,  and  I  have  resolved  to  break  through  all  the 
barriers  he  chooses  to  set  up  around  him,  and  learn  if  I 
can  what  his  feelings  and  purposes  precisely  are.  One 
conversation  may  reveal  them  in  such  a  way,  as  may 
make  it  sufficiently  plain  what  part  he  means  to  act,  and 
what  measure  of  truth  there  may  be  in  the  current  ru 
mors  ;  in  which,  for  my  own  part,  I  cannot  bring  myself 
to  place  much  reliance.  I  doubt  even  concerning  the 
death  of  Aurelia,  whether,  even  if  it  has  taken  place,  it  is 
not  to  be  traced  to  some  cause  other  than  her  religion. 

A  day  has  passed.  I  have  seen  the  Emperor,  as  I 
was  resolved  to  do,  and  now  I  no  longer  doubt  what  his 
designs  are,  nor  that  they  are  dark  as  they  have  been 
represented  ;  yea,  and  darker,  even  as  night  is  darker 
than  day. 

Upon  reaching  the  palace,  I  was  told  that  the  Empe 
ror  was  exercising  at  the  hippodrome,  toward  which  I 
then  bent  my  steps.  It  lies  at  some  distance  from  the 
palace,  concealed  from  it  by  intervening  groves.  Soon 
3*  VOL.  ii. 


30  AURELIAN. 

as  I  came  in  sight  of  it,  I  beheld  Aurelian  upon  his  fa 
vorite  horse  running  the  course  as  if  contending  for  a 
prize,  plying,  the  while,  the  fierce  animal  he  bestrode 
with  the  lash,  as  if  he  were  some  laggard  who  needed 
rousing  to  his  work.  Swifter  than  the  wind  he  flew 
by  me,  how  many  times  I  know  not,  without  noting 
apparently  that  any  one  was  present  beside  the  attendant 
slaves  ;  nor  did  he  cease  till  the  horse,  spent  and  exhaus 
ted,  no  longer  obeyed  the  will  of  even  the  Emperor  of 
the  world.  Many  a  noble  charger  has  he  in  this  manner 
rode  till  he  has  fallen  dead.  So  long  used  has  this  man 
been  to  the  terrific  game  of  war,  and  the  scenes  and 
sights  which  that  reveals,  stirring  to  their  depths  all  the 
direst  passions  of  our  nature,  that  now,  at  home  and  at 
peace,  life  grows  stale  and  flat,  and  needs  the  artificial 
stimulants  which  violent  and  extreme  modes  of  action 
can  alone  supply.  The  death  of  a  horse  on  the  course, 
answers  now  for  a  legion  slain  in  battle  ;  an  unruly,  or 
disobedient,  or  idle  slave  hewn  in  two,  affords  the  relief 
which  the  execution  of  prisoners  has  been  accustomed  to 
yield.  Weary  of  inaction,  he  pants  for  the  day  to  arrive 
when,  having  completed  the  designs  he  has  set  on  foot  in 
the  city,  he  shall  again  join  the  army,  now  accumulating  in 
huge  masses  in  Thrace,  and  once  more  find  himself  in  the 
East,  on  the  way  to  new  conquests  and  fresh  slaughter. 
As  he  threvy  himself  from  his  horse,  now  breathing 
hard  and  scarcely  supporting  himself,  the  foam  rolling 
from  him  like  snow,  he  saluted  me  in  his  usual  manner. 

A  fair  and  fortunate  day  to  you,  Piso  !  And  what 
may  be  the  news  in  the  city  ?  I  have  rode  fast  and  far, 
but  have  heard  nothing.  I  come  back  empty  as  I  went 
out,  save  the  heat  which  I  have  put  into  mv  veins.  This 


AURELIAN.  31 

horse  is  he  I  was  seen  upon  from  the  walls  of  Palmyra  uy 
your  and  other  traitor  eyes.  But  for  first  passing  through 
the  better  part  of  my  leg  and  then  the  saddle,  the  arrow 
that  hit  me  then  had  been  the  death  of  him.  But  death  is 
not  for  him,  nor  he  for  death  ;  he  and  his  rider  are  some 
thing  alike,  and  will  long  be  so,  if  auguries  ever  'speak 
truth.  And  if  there  be  not  truth  in  auguries,  Piso,  where 
is  it  to  be  found  among  mortals  ?  These  three  morn 
ings  have  I  rode  him  to  see  if  in  this  manner  he  could 
be  destroyed,  but  thou  seest  how  it  issues  ;  I  should 
destroy  myself  before  him.  But  what,  I  say,  is  the 
news  ?  How  does  the  lady  Julia  ?  and  the  Queen  ?  ' 

Replying  first  to  these  last  inquiries,  I  then  said  that 
there  was  little  news  I  believed  in  the  city.  The  only 
thing,  perhaps,  that  could  be  treated  as  news,  was  the 
general  uneasiness  of  the  Christians. 

'  Ah  !  They  are  uneasy  ?  By  the  gods,  not  wholly 
without  reason.  Were  it  not  for  them  I  had  now  been,  not 
here  chafing  my  horse  and  myself  on  a  hippodrome,  but 
tearing  up  instead  the  hard  sands  of  the  Syrian  deserts. 
They  weigh  upon  me  like  a  nightmare  !  They  are  a  visi 
ble  curse  of  the  gods  upon  the  state  —  but,  being  seen,  it 
can  be  removed.  I  reckon  not  you  among  this  tribe,  Piso, 
when  I  speak  of  them.  What  purpose  is  imputed  ?  ' 

'  Rumor  varies.  No  distinct  purpose  is  named,  but 
rather  a  general  one  of  abridging  some  of  their  liberties — 
suppressing  their  worship,  and  silencing  their  priests.' 

'  Goes  it  no  further  ? ' 

'  Not  with  many  ;  for  the  people  are  still  willing  to 
believe  that  Aurelian  will  inflict  no  needless  suffering. 
Tney  see  you  great  in  war,  severe  in  the  chastisement 
of  the  enemies  of  the  state,  and  just  in  the  punishment 


32  AURELIAN. 

inflicted  upon  domestic  rebels  ;  and  they  conceive  that 
in  regard  to  this  simple  people  you  will  not  go  beyond 
the  rigor  I  have  just  named.' 

'  Truly  they  give  me  credit,'  replied  Aurelian,  '  for 
what  I  scarcely  deserve.  But  an  Emperor  can  never 
hear  the  truth.  Piso  !  they  will  find  themselves  deceiv 
ed.  One  or  the  other  must  fall — Helenism  or  Christian 
ity  !  I  knew  riot,  till  my  late  return  from  the  East,  the 
ravages  made  by  this  modern  superstition,  not  only 
throughout  Rome,  but  the  world.  In  this  direction  I 
have  for  many  years  been  blind.  I  have  had  eyes  only 
for  the  distant  enemies  of  my  country,  and  the  glories  of 
the  battle-field.  But  now,  upon  resting  here  a  space  in 
the  heart  of  the  empire,  1  find  that  heart  eaten  out  and 
gone  ;  the  religion  of  ancient  Home,  which  was  its  very 
life,  decaying,  and  almost  dead,  through  the  rank  growth 
of  this  overshadowing  poison-tree  that  has  shot  up  at  its 
side.  It  must  be  cut  up  by  the  roots  —  the  branches 
hewn  away  —  the  leaves  stripped  and  scattered  to  the 
winds  —  nay,  the  very  least  fibre  that  lurks  below  the 
surface  with  life  in  it,  must  be  wrenched  out  and  con 
sumed.  We  must  do  thus  by  the  Christians  and  their 
faith,  or  they  will  do  so  by  us.' 

'  I  am  hardly  willing,'  I  replied,  '  to  believe  what  I 
have  heard  ;  nor  will  I  believe  it.  It  were  an  act,  so 
mad  and  unwise,  as  well  as  so  cruel,  that  I  will  not  be 
lieve  it  though  coming  from  the  lips  of  Aurelian  !  ' 

'  It  is  true,  Piso,  as  the  light  of  yonder  sun  !  But  if 
tiiou  wilt  not  believe,  wait  a  day  or  two  and  proof  enough 
shalt  thou  have — proof  that  shall  cure  thy  infidelity  in  a 
river  of  Christian  blood.' 

4  Stfl,  Aurelian,'   I  answered,  '  I  believe  not  :    nor 


AUR  ELIAN,  33 

will,  till  that  river  shall  run  down  before  my  eyes  red 
and  thick  as  the  Orontes  !  ' 

'  How,  Piso,  is  this  ?     I  thought  you  knew  me  ! ' 

1  In  part  I  am  sure  I  do.  I  know  you  neither  to  be  a 
madman  nor  a  fool,  both  which  in  one  would  you  be 
to  attempt  what  you  have  now  threatened.' 

'  Young  Piso,  you  are  bold  ! ' 

'  I  make  no  boast  of  courage,'  I  replied  ;  '  I  know  thai 
in  familiar  speech  with  Aurelian,  I  need  not  fear  him. 
Surely  you  would  not  converse  on  such  a  subject  with  a 
slave  or  a  flatterer.  A  Piso  can  be  neither.  I  can 
speak,  or  I  can  be  silent  ;  but  if  I  speak —  ' 

*  Say  on,  say  on,  in  the  name  of  the  gods  ! ' 

*  What  I   would  say   to    Aurelian    then  is  this,  that 
slaughter  as  he  may,  the  Christians  cannot  be  extermina 
ted  ;  that  though  he  decimated,  first  Rome  and  then  the 
empire,  there  would  still  be  left  a  seed  that  would  spring 
up  and  bear  its  proper  harvest.     Nay,  Aurelian,  though 
you  halved  the  empire,  you  could  not   win   your  game* 
The  Christians  are  more  than  you  deem  them.' 

*  Be  it  so,'  replied  the  Emperor  ;  '  nevertheless  I  will 
try.     But  they  are  not  so  many  as    you    rate    them    at, 
neither  by  a  direct  nor  an  indirect  enumeration.' 

1  Let  that  pass,  then,'  I  answered.  '  Let  them  be  a  half, 
a  quarter,  a  tenth  part  of  what  I  believe  them  to  be,  it 
will  be  the  same  ;  they  cannot  be  exterminated.  Soon 
as  the  work  of  death  is  done,  that  of  life  will  begin  again, 
and  the  growth  will  be  the  more  rank  for  the  blood  spilled 
around.  Outside  of  the  tenth  part,  Aurelian,  that  now 
openly  professes  this  new  religion,  there  lies  another  equal 
•number  of  those  who  do  not  openly  profess  it,  but  do  so 
cither  secretly,  or  else  view  it  with  favor  and  with  the 


34 


AU  R  E  LI  A  N  . 


desire  to  accept  it.  Your  violence,  inflicted  upon  the 
open  believers,  reaches  not  them,  for  they  are  an  invisible 
multitude  ;  but  no  sooner  has  it  fallen  and  done  its  work 
of  ruin,  than  this  other  multitude  slowly  reveals  itself, 
and  stands  forth  heirs  and  professors  of  the  persecuted 
faith,  and  ready,  like  those  who  went  before  them,  to 
live  for  it  and  die  for  it.' 

'  What  you  say  may  be  so,'  answered  Aurelian  ;  « I 
had  thought  not  of  it.  Nevertheless,  I  will  try.' 

'  Moreover,'  I  continued,  (  in  every  time  of  persecution, 
there  are  those  —  sincere  believers,  but  timid — who  dare 
not  meet  the  threatened  horrors.  These  deny  not  their 
faith,  but  they  shrink  from  sight ;  they  for  a  season  dis 
appear  ;  their  hearts  worship  as  ever,  but  their  tongues 
are  silent  ;  and  search  as  they  may,  your  emissaries  of 
blood  cannot  find  them.  But  soon  as  the  storm  is  over 
past,  then  do  they  come  forth  again,  as  insects  from  the 
leaves  that  sheltered  them  from  the  storm,  and  fill  again 
the  forsaken  churches.' 

1  Nevertheless  I  will  try  for  them.' 
'  Then  will  you  be,  Aurelian,  as  one  that  sheds  blood, 
because  he  will  shed  it  —  seeing  that  the  end  at  which 
you  aim  cannot  in  such  way  be  reached.  Confiscation, 
imprisonment,  scourging,  fires,  torture,  and  death,  will 
all  be  in  vain  ;  and  with  no  more  prospect  that  by  such 
oppression  Christianity  can  be  annihilated,  than  there 
would  be  of  rooting  out  poppies  from  your  fields  when 
as  you  struck  ofF  the  heads  or  tore  up  the  old  roots,  the 
ripe  seeds  were  scattered  abroad  over  the  soil,  a  thousand 
for  every  parent  stalk  that  fell.  You  will  drench  your 
self  in  the  blood  of  the  innocent,  only  that  you  may  do 
it  —  while  no  effect  shall  follow.' 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N.  35 

*  Let  it  be  so  then  ;  even  so.     Still  I  will  not  forbear. 
But  this  I  know,  Piso,  that  when  a  disaffection  has  bro 
ken  out  in  a  legion,  and  I  have  caused  the  half  thereof, 
or  its  tenth,  to  be  drawn  forth  and  cut  to    pieces  by  the 
other  part,  the  danger  has  disappeared.    The  physic  has 
been  bitter,   but  it  has  cured  the  patient  !     I  am  a  good 
surgeon  ;  and  well  used  to   letting   blood.     I  know  the 
wonders  it  works  and  shall  try  it  now,   not  doubting  to 
see  some  good  effects.      When  poison  is  in    the    veins, 
let  out  the  blood,  and  the  new  that  comes    in  is  whole 
some.     Rome  is  poisoned  ! ' 

'  Great  Emperor,'  I  replied,  '  you  know  nothing,  allow 
me  to  say,  whereof  you  affirm.  You  know  not  the  Chris 
tians,  and  how  can  you  deem  them  poison  to  the  state  ?  A 
purer  brotherhood  never  has  the  world  seen.  I  am  but  of 
late  one  among  them,  and  it  is  but  a  few  months  since  I 
thought  of  them  as  you  now  do.  But  I  knew  nothing  of 
them.  Now  I  know  them.  And  knowledge  has  placed 
them  before  me  in  another  light.  If,  Aurelian —  ' 

'  I  know  nothing  of  them,  Piso,  it  is  true  ;  and  I  wish  to 
know  nothing  —  nothing  more,  than  that  they  are  Chris 
tians  !  that  they  deny  the  good  gods  !  that  they  aim  at 
the  overthrow  of  the  religion  of  the  state  —  that  religion 
under  whose  fostering  care  Rome  has  grown  up  to  her 
giant  size  —  that  they  are  fire-brands  of  discord  and 
quarrel  in  Rome  and  throughout  the  world  !  Greater 
would  my  name  be,  could  I  extirpate  this  accursed  tribe 
than  it  would  be  for  triumphing  over  both  the  East  and 
West,  or  though  I  gained  the  whole  world.' 

*  Aurelian,'  I  replied,  '  this  is  not  the  language  I  used 
to  hear  from  your  lips.     Another   spirit   possesses  you 
and  it  is  not  hard  to  tell  whence  it  comes.' 


36  AURELIAN. 

1  You  would  say  —  from  Pronto.' 

'  I  would.  There  is  the  rank  poison,  that  has  turned 
the  blood  in  the  veins  of  one,  whom  justice  and  wisdom 
once  ruled,  into  its  own  accursed  substance.' 

'I  and  Rome,  Piso,'  said  Aurelian,  '  owe  much  to 
Pronto.  I  confess  that  his  spirit  now  possesses  me. 
He  has  roused  the  latent  piety  into  action  and  life,  which 
I  received  with  my  mother's  milk,  but  which,  the  gods 
forgive  me !  carried  away  by  ambition,  had  well  nigh 
gone  quite  out  in  my  soul.  My  mother  —  dost  thou 
know  it  ?  —  was  a  priestess  of  Apollo,  and  never  did  god 
or  goddess  so  work  by  unseen  influence  to  gain  a  mor 
tal's  heart,  as  did  she  to  fill  mine  with  reverence  of  the 
deities  of  heaven  —  specially  of  the  great  god  of  light. 
[  was  early  a  wayward  child.  When  a  soldier  in  the 
legions  I  now  command,  my  life  was  what  a  soldier's  is 
—  a  life  of  action,  hardship,  peril,  and  blood.  The  deities 
of  Heaven  soon  became  to  me  as  if  they  were  not.  And 
so  it  has  been  for  well  nigh  all  the  years  of  my  life. 
But,  the  gods  be  thanked,  Pronto  has  redeemed  me  !  and 
since  I  have  worn  this  diadem  have  I  toiled,  Rome  can 
testify  with  what  zeal,  to  restore  to  her  gods  their  lost 
honors  —  to  purge  her  worship  of  the  foul  corruptions 
that  were  bringing  it  into  contempt  —  and  raise  it  higher 
than  ever  in  the  honor  of  the  people,  by  the  magnificence 
of  the  temples  I  have  built ;  by  the  gifts  I  have  lavished 
upon  them  ;  by  the  ample  riches  wherewith  I  have  en 
dowed  the  priesthood.  And  more  than  once,  while  this 
work  has  been  achieving,  has  the  form  of  my  revered 
parent,  beautiful  in  the  dazzling  robes  of  her  office,  stood 
by  my  bedside  —  whether  in  dream,  or  in  vision,  or  in 
actual  presence,  I  cannot  tell —  and  blessed  me  for  my 


AtfRELlAN.  37 

pious  enterprise  —  "  The  gods  be  thanked,"  the  lips  have 
said,  or  seemed  to  say,  "  that  thy  youth  lasts  not  always 
but  that  age  has  come,  and  with  it  second  childhood  in 
thy  reverence  of  the  gods,  whose  worship  it  was  mine  to 
put  into  thy  infant  heart.  Go  on  thy  way,  my  son  ' 
Build  up  the  fallen  altars,  and  lay  low  the  aspiring  fanes 
of  the  wicked.  Finish  what  thoti  hast  begun,  and  all 
time  shall  pronounce  thee  greatest  of  the  great."  Should 
I  disobey  the  warning?  The  gods  forbid  !  and  save  me 
from  such  impiety.  I  am  now,  Piso,  doubly  armed  for  the 
work  I  have  taken  in  hand — first  by  the  zeal  of  the  pious 
Pronto,  and  second,  by  the  manifest  finger  of  Heaven 
pointing  the  wayl  should  go.  And,  please  the  Almigh 
ty  Ruler  !  I  will  enter  upon  it,  and  it  shall  not  be  for 
want  of  a  determined  will  and  of  eyes  too  used  to  the 
shedding  of  blood  to  be  frightened  now  though  an  ocean 
full  were  spilled  before  them,  if  this  race  be  not  utterVy 
swept  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  from  the  suckling  to 
the-  silver  head,  from  the  beggar  to  the  prince  —  and 
from  Rome  all  around  to  the  four  winds,  as  far  as  her 
almighty  arms  can  reach.' 

My  heart  sunk  within  me  as  he  spoke,  and  my  knees 
trembled  under  me.  I  knew  the  power  and  spirit  of  the 
man,  and  I  now  saw  that  superstition  had  claimed  him 
for  her  own  ;  that  he  would  go  about  his  work  of  death 
and  ruin,  armed  with  his  own  cruel  and  bloody  mind, 
and  urged  behind  by  the  fiercer  spirit  still  of  Pagan  big 
otry.  It  seemed  to  me,  in  spite  of  what  I  had  just  said 
myself,  and  thought  I  believed,  as  if  the  death-note  of 
Christianity  had  now  been  rung  in  my  ear.  The  voice 
of  Aurelian  as  he  spoke  had  lost  its  usual  sharpness, 
4  VOL.  ii. 


39 


ATJREL1AN  . 


and  fallen  into  a  lower  tone  full  of  meaning,  and  which 
said  to  hie  that  his  very  inmost  soul  was  pouring  itsel: 
out,  with  the  awful  words  he  used.  I  felt  utterly  helpless 
ana  undone  —  like  an  ant  in  the  pathway  of  a  giant  — 
incapaoie  of  resistance  or  escape.  I  suppose  all  this  was 
visible  in  my  countenance.  I  said  nothing  ;  and  Aure- 
lian,  after  pausing  a  moment,  went  on. 

*  Think  me  not,  Piso,  to  be  using  the  words  of  an  idle 
braggart  in  what  I  have  said.     Who  has  known  Aure- 
lian,  when  once  he  has  threatened  death,  to  hold  back 
his  nand  -     But  I  will  give  thee  earnest  of  my  truth  !' 

'  1  require  it  not,  Aurelian.     I  question  not  thy  truth.' 

*  1  will  give  it  notwithstanding,  Piso.     What  will  you 
think — you  will  think  as  you  ever  have  of  me  —  if  I 
should  say  that  already,  and  upon  one  of  my  own  house, 
infected  with  this  hell-begotten  atheism,  has  the  axe  al 
ready  fallen  ! ' 

Hearing  the  horrible  truth  from  his  own  lips,  it  seemed 
as  if  I  had  never  heard  it  before.    I  hardly  had  believed  it. 

*  Tyrant !'  I  exclaimed, '  it  cannot  be !   What,  Aurelia  ?' 
4  Yes,  Aurelia  !     Keep   thy  young  blood  cool,  Piso. 

Yes,  Aurelia  !  Ere  I  struck  at  others,  it  behoved  me  to 
reprove  my  own.  It  was  no  easy  service,  as  you  may 
guess,  but  it  must  be  done.  And  not  only  was  Aurelia 
herself  pertinaciously  wedded  to  this  fatal  mischief,  but 
she  was  subduing  the  manly  mind  of  Mucapor  too,  who, 
had  he  been  successfully  wrought  upon,  were  as  good  as 
dead  to  me  and  to  Rome —  and  he  is  one  whom  our  le 
gions  cannot  spare.  We  have  Christians  more  than 
enough  already  in  our  ranks  :  a  Christian  general  was 
not  to  be  borne.  This  was  additional  matter  of  accusa 
tion  against  Aurelia,  and  made  it  right  that  sne  should 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

die.  But  she  had  her  free  choice  of  life,  honor,  rank, 
riches,  and,  added  to  all,  Mucapor,  whose  equal  Rome 
does  not  hold,  if  she  would  but  take  them.  One  word 
spoken  and  they  were  all  her  own  ;  with  no  small  chance 
that  she  should  one  day  be  whatLivia  is.  But  that  one 
word  her  obstinate  superstition  would  not  let  her  speaK/ 

'  No,  Aurelian  ;  there  is  that  in  the  Christian  super 
stition  that  always  forbids  the  uttering  of  that  onr> 
word.  Death  to  the  Christian  is  but  another  word  lor 
life.  Apostacy  is  the  true  death.  You  have  destroyed 
the  body  of  Aurelia,  but  her  virtuous  soul  is  aireaay 
with  God,  and  it  is  yo.u  who  have  girded  upon  her  Drow 
a  garland  that  shall  never  fade.  Of  that  mucn  may 
you  make  your  boast.' 

*  Piso-,  I  bear  with  you,  and  shall  ;  but  there  is  no 
other  in  Rome  who  might  say  so  much.' 

'Nay,  nay,  Aurelian,  there  I  believe  you  better  than 
you  make  yourself.  To  him  who  is  already  the  victim 
of  the  axe  or  the  beasts  do  you  never  deny  the  liberty 
of  the  tongue, — such  as  it  then  is.' 

'  Upon  Piso,  and  he  the  husband  of  Julia,  I  can  inflict 
no  evil,  nor  permit  it  done.' 

1 1  would  take  shelter,  Aurelian,  neither  behind  my 
own  name,  my  father's,  nor  my  wife's.  I  am  a  Christian 
— and  such  fate  as  may  befall  the  rest,  I  would  share.  Yet 
not  willingly,  for  life  and  happiness  are  dear  to  me  as 
to  you  —  and  they  are  dear  to  all  these  innocent  multi 
tudes  whom  you  do  now,  in  the  exercise  of  despotic 
power,  doom  to  a  sudden  and  abhorred  death.  Bethink 
yourself,  Aurelian,  before  it  be  too  late — ' 

'  I  have  bethought  myself  of  it  all,'  he  replied  —  *  and 
were  the  Buffering  ten  times  more,  and  the  blood  to  ba 


40  A  TJ  R  ELIAN- 

poured  out  a  thousand  times  more,  I  would  draw  back 
not  one  step.  The  die  has  been  cast  ;  it  has  come  up 
as  it  is,  and  so  must  be  the  game.  I  listen  to  no  appeal. 

'  Not  from  me,'  I  replied  ;  '  but  surely  you  will  not 
deny  a  hearing  to  what  these  people  may  say  in  their 
own  defence.  That  were  neither  just  nor  merciful ;  nor 
were  it  like  Aurelian.  There  is  much  which  by  their 
proper  organs  tney  might  say  to  place  before  you  their 
faith  in  the  liftht  of  truth.  You  have  heard  what  you 
have  received  concerning  it,  chiefly  from  the  lips  of 
Fronto  ;  and  can  he  know  what  he  has  never  learned  2 
or  tell  it  unperverted  by  prejudices  black  as  night  ? ' 

'  1  have  already  said,'  rejoined  the  Emperor,  '  that  I 
would  hear  them,  and  I  will.  But  it  can  avail  them  no 
more  than  words  uttered  in  the  breath  of  the  tempest  that 
is  raging  up  from  the  north.  Hear  them  !  This  day 
have  I  already  heard  them  —  from  one  of  those  madmen 
of  theirs  who  plague  the  streets  of  Rome.  Passing  early 
by  the  temple  of  •jJEsculapius —  that  one  which  stands 
not  an  arrow's  flight  from  the  column  of  Trajan  —  I 
came  upon  a  dense  crowd  of  all  sorts  of  persons  listen 
ing  to  a  gaunt  figure  of  a  man  who  spoke  to  them. 
Soon  as  I  came  against  him,  and  paused  on  my  horse 
for  the  crowd  to  make  way,  the  wild  beast  who  was  de 
claiming,  shouted  at  me  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  calling  on 
me  to  *  hear  the  word  of  God  which  he  would  speak  to 
me.'  Knowing  him  by  such  jargon  to  be  a  Christian,  I 
did  as  he  desired,  and  there  stood,  while  he,  for  my  es 
pecial  instruction,  laid  bare  the  iniquities  and  follies  of 
the  Roman  worship  ;  sent  the  priesthood  and  all  who 
entered  their  temples  to  the  infernal  regions  ;  and 
prophesied  against  Rome  —  which  he  termed  Babylon— 


AURELIAN.  41 

.hat  ere  so  many  centuries  were  gone,  her  walls  would 
lie  even  with  the  ground,  her  temples  moulder  in  ruins, 
her  language  become  extinct,  and  her  people  confounded 
with  other  nations  and  lost.  And  all  this  because  I, 
whom  he  now  called,  if  I  remember  the  names  aright, 
Ahaz  and  now  Nebuchadnezzar,  oppressed  the  children 
of  God  and  held  them  in  captivity  :  while  in  the  same 
breath  he  bid  me  come  on  with  my  chains,  gibbets,  beasts, 
crosses,  and  fires,  for  they  were  ready,  and  would  re 
joice  to  bear  their  testimony  in  the  cause  of  Christ.  As 
I  turned  to  resume  my  way,  his  words  were  ;  *  Go  on, 
thou  man  of  pride  and  blood;  go  on  thy  way  !  The  gates 
of  hell  swing  open  for  thee  !  Already  the  arm  of  the 
Lord  is  bared  against  thee  !  the  winged  lightning  strug 
gles  in  his  hand  to  smite  thee  !  I  hear  thy  cry  for  mercy 
which  no  one  answers  — '  and  more,  till  I  was  beyond 
the  reach  of  his  owl's  voice.  There  was  an  appeal, 
Piso,  from  this  people  !  What  think  you  of  it  ?' 

*  He  whom  you  heard,'  I  replied,  '  I  know,  and  know 
him  to  be  honest  and  true  ;  as  loyal  a  subject  too  as 
Rome  holds.  He  is  led  away  by  his  hot  and  hasty  tem 
per  both  to  do  and  say  what  injures  not  only  him,  but 
all  who  are  joined  with  him,  and  the  cause  he  defends. 
He  offends  the  Christians  hardly  less  than  others.  Judge 
not  all  by  him.  He  stands  alone.  If  you  would  hear 
one  whom  all  alike  confide  in,  and  who  may  fitly  repre 
sent  the  feelings  and  principles  of  the  whole  body  of 
Christians,  summon  Probus.  From  him  may  you  learn 
without  exaggeration  or  concealment,  without  reproach 
of  others  or  un'due  boasting  of  themselves,  what  the 
Christians  are  in  their  doctrines  and  their  lives,  as  citizens 
4*  VOL.  ii. 


42  A  D  R  E  L  I  A  N 

of  Home  and  loyal  subjects  of  Aurelian,  and  what,  as 
citizens  of  heaven  and  loyal  followers  of  Jesus  Christ.' 

The  Emperor  promised  to  consider  it.  He  had  no 
other  reason  to  deny  such  favor,  but  the  tedium  of  lis 
tening  to  what  could  profit  neither  him  nor  others. 

We  then  turned  toward  the  palace,  where  I  saw 
Livia  ;  now  as  silent  and  sad  as,  when  in  Palmyra,  she 
was  lively  and  gay.  Not  that  Aurelian  abates  the  least 
of  his  worship,  but  that  the  gloom  which  overshadows 
him  imparts  itself  to  her,  and  that  knowing  what  has 
befallen  Aurelia,  she  cannot  but  feel  it  to  be  a  possible 
thing  for  the  blow  to  fall  elsewhere  and  nearer.  Yet  is 
there  the  same  out\vard  show  as  ever.  The  palace  is 
still  thronged,  with  not  Rome  only,  but  by  strangers 
from  all  quarters  of  the  empire,  anxious  to  pay  their 
homage  at  once  to  the  Empress  of  Rome,  to  the  most 
beautiful  woman  in  the  world  —  such  is  the  language — 
and  to  a  daughter  of  the  far-famed  Zenobia. 

The  city  is  now  crowded  with  travelers  of  all  nations, 
so  much  so  that  the  inns  can  scarce  receive  them  ;  and 
hardly  ever  before  was  private  hospitality  so  put  to  all 
its  resources.  With  all,  and  everywhere,  in  the  streets, 
at  the  public  baths,  in  the  porticos,  at  the  private  or  pub 
lic  banquet,  the  Christians  are  the  one  absorbing  topic. 
And,  at  least,  this  good  comes  with  the  evil,  that  thus 
the  character  of  this  religion,  as  compared  with  that  of 
Rome  and  other  faiths,  is  made  known  to  thousands 
who  might  otherwise  never  have  heard  of  it,  or  have 
felt  interest  enough  in  it  to  examine  its  claims.  "  It  leads 
to  a  large  demand  for,  and  sale  of,  our  sacred  books.  The 
copyists  can  hardly  supply  them  so  fast  as  they  are 
wanted.  For  in  the  case  of  any  dispute  or  conversation, 


A  U  R  E  L  T  A  N  .  #* 

it  is  common  to  hear  the  books  themselves  referred  to, 
and  then  to  be  called  in  as  witnesses  for  or  against  a 
statement  made.  And  pleasant  enough  is  it  to  see  how 
clear  the  general  voice  is  on  our  side  —  especially  with 
the  strangers — how  indignant  they  are,  for  the  most  part, 
that  violence,  to  the  extreme  of  another  Decian  perse 
cution,  should  be  so  much  as  dreamed  of.  Would  t^at 
the  same  could  be  said  of  our  citizens  and  countrymen  ! 
A  large  proportion  of  them  indeed  embrace  the  earnp 
liberal  sentiments,  but  a  greater  part,  if  not  for  extreme 
violence,  are  yet  for  oppression  and  suppression  ;  and  I 
dare  not  say  how  many,  for  all  that  Aurelian  himself 
designs.  Among  the  lower  orders,  especially,  a  fero 
cious  and  blood-thirsty  spirit  breaks  out  in  a  thousand 
ways  that  fills  the  bosom  both  with  grief  and  terror. 

The  clouds  are  gathering  over  us,  Fausta,  heavy  and 
black  with  the  tempest  pent  up  within.  The  thunders 
are  rolling  in  the  distance,  and  each  hour  coming  nearer 
and  nearer.  Whom  the  lightnings  shall  strike  —  how 
vain  to  conjecture  !  Would  to  God  that  Julia  were 
anywhere  but  here  !  For,  to  you  I  may  say  it.  I  cannot 
trust  Aurelian — yes — Aurelian  himself  I  may  ;  but  not 
Aurelian  the  tool  of  Fronto.  Farewell. 


AURELIAN. 

LETTER    IX. 

FROM      P1SO      TO      FAUSTA. 

W  HEN  I  turned  from  the  palace  of  Aurelian  and  again 
tooK  my  way  towards  the  Coelian,  I  did  it  in  the  belief 
tnat  6efore  the  day  should  end,  edicts  against  the  Chris 
tians  would  be  published.  I  found,  as  I  conversed  with 
many  whom  I  met  in  the  way,  that  from  other  sources 
tne  same  opinion  had  become  common.  In  one  manner 
or  another  it  had  come  abroad  that  measures  had  been 
resolved  upon  by  the  Emperor,  and  would  soon  be  put  in 
force.  Many  indeed  do  not  give  the  least  credit  to  the 
rumors,  and  believe  that  they  all  spring  from  the  violent 
language  of  Pronto,  which  has  been  reported  as  that  of 
Aureiian.  You  may  wonder  that  there  should  be  such 
uncertainty  respecting  a  great  design  like  this.  But 
you  must  remember  that  Aurelian  has  of  late  shrouded 
nnnseif  in  a  studied  obscurity.  Not  a  despot,  in  the 
despotic  lands  of  Asia,  keeps  more  secret  counsel  than 
he,  of  leans  less  upon  tne  opinion  or  advice  of  others. 
All  that  is  done  throughout  the  vast  compass  of  the  em 
pire,  springs  from  him  alone  —  all  the  affairs  of  foreign 
and  dependent  kingdoms  are  arranged  and  determined 
by  him.  As  for  Italy  and  the  capita],  they  are  mere 
playthings  in  his  hand.  You  ask  if  the  senate  does  not 
still  exist  ?  I  answer,  it  does  ;  but,  as  a  man  exists 
whom  a  palsy  has  made  but  half  alive  ;  the  body  is 
there,  but  the  soul  is  gone,  and  even  the  b^dy  is  asleep. 


AURELIAN.  46 

The  senators,  with  all  becoming  gravity,  assemble  them 
selves  at  the  capitol,  and  what  time  they  sleep  not  away 
the  tedious  hours  in  their  ivory  chairs,  they  debate  such 
high  matters  as,  '  whether  the  tax  which  this  year  falls 
heavy  upon  Capua,  by  reason  of  a  blast  upon  the  grapes, 
shall  be  lightened  or  remitted  !'  or  '  whether  the  petition 
of  the  Milanese  for  the  construction  at  the  public  expense 
of  a  granary  shall  be  answered  favorably  !'  or  '  whether 
V.  P.  Naso  shall  be  granted  a  new  trial  after  defeat  at 
the  highest  court  !'  Not  that  there  is  not  virtue  in  the 
senate,  some  dignity,  some  respect  and  love  for  the  lib 
erties  of  Home — witness  myself— but  that  the  Emperor 
has  engrossed  the  whole  empire  to  himself,  and  nothing 
is  left  for  that  body  but  to  keep  alive  the  few  remaining 
forms  of  ancient  liberty,  by  assembling  as  formerly,  and 
taking  care  of  whatever  insignificant  affairs  are  intrust 
ed  to  them.  In  a  great  movement  like  this  against  the 
Christians,  Aurelian  does  not  so  much  as  recognize 
their  existence.  No  advice  is  asked,  no  cooperation. 
And  the  less  is  he  disposed  to  communicate  with  them 
in  the  present  instance  perhaps,  from  knowing  so  well 
that  the  measure  would  find  no  favor  in  their  eyes  ;  but 
would,  on  the  contrary,  be  violently  opposed.  Every 
thing,  accordingly,  originates'in  the  sovereign  will  of 
Aurelian,  and  is  carried  into  effect  by  his  arm  wielding 
the  total  power  of  this  boundless  empire  —  being  now, 
what  it  has  been  his  boast  to  make  it,  coextensive  with 
its  extremest  borders  as  they  were  in  the  time  of  the 
Antonines.  There  is  no  power  to  resist  him  ;  nor  are 
there  many  who  dare  to  utter  their  real  opinions,  least 
of  all,  a  senator,  or  a  noble.  A  beggar  in  the  street  may 
do  it  with  better  chance  of  its  being  respected,  if  agreeable 


46  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N. 

to  him,  and  of  escaping  rebuke  or  worse,  if  it  be  unpala 
table.  To  the  people,  he  is  still,  as  ever,  courteous  and 
indulgent. 

There' is  throughout  the  city  a  strange  silence  and 
gloom,  as  if  in  expectancy  of  some  great  calamity  ;  or  of 
some  event  of  dark  and  uncertain  character.  The 
Christians  go  about  their  affairs  as  usual,  not  ceasing 
from  any  labors,  nor  withdrawing  from  the  scene  of 
danger ;  but  with  firm  step  and  serious  air  keep  on  their 
way  as  if  conscious  of  the  great  part  which  it  is  theirs 
to  act,  and  resolved  that  it  shall  not  suffer  at  their 
hands.  Many  with  whom  I  have  spoken,  put  on  even  a 
cheerful  air  as  they  have  greeted  me,  and  after  the  usual 
morning's  salutation, have  passed  on  as  if  things  were  in 
their  usual  train.  Others  with  pale  face  and  quivering 
lip  confessed  the  inward  tumult,  and  that,  if  they  feared 
naught,  for  themselves,  there  were  those  at  home,  help 
less  and  exposed,  for  whom  the  heart  bled,  and  for 
whom  it  could  not  but  show  signs  of  fear. 

I  met  the  elder  Demetrius.  His  manly  and  thought 
ful  countenance  —  though  it  betrayed  nothing  of  weak 
ness  —  was  agitated  with  suppressed  emotion.  He  is  a 
man  full  of  courage,  but  full  of  sensibility  too.  His  af 
fections  are  warm  and  tender  as  those  of  a  girl.  He 
asked  me  '  what  I  could  inform  him  of  the  truth  of  the 
rumors  which  were  now  afloat  of  the  most  terrific  charac 
ter.'  I  saw  where  his  heart  was  as  he  spoke,  and  an 
swered  him,  as  you  may  believe,  with  pain  and  reluc 
tance.  1  knew,  indeed,  that  the  whole  truth  would  soon 
break  upon  him  —  it  was  a  foolish  weakness  —  but  I 
could  hardly  bring  myself  to  tell  him  what  a  few  hours 


ATJRELIAN.  47 

would  prooably  reveal.  I  told  him,  however,  all  that  1 
had  just  learned  from  Aurelian  himself,  and  which,  as 
he  made  no  reserve  with  regard  to  me,  nor  enjoined 
concealment,  I  did  not  doubt  was  fully  resolved  upon, 
and  would  be  speedily  put  in  force.  As  I  spoke,  the 
countenance  of  the  Greek  grew  pale  beyond  its  usual 
hue  of  paleness.  He  bent  his  head,  as  in  perplexed  and 
anxious  thought  ;  the  tears  were  ready  to  overflow  as 
he  raised  it,  after  a  moment,  and  said, 

'  Piso,  I  am  but  recently  a  Christian.  I  know  noth 
ing  of  this  religion  but  its  beauty  and  truth.  It  is  what 

I  have  ever  longed  for,  and  now  that  I  possess  it  I  value 
it  far  more  than  life.     But,'  —  he  paused   a    moment  — 

I 1  have  mingled  but  little  with    this   people  ;    I   know 
scarcely  any  ;    I  am   ignorant  of  what  they  require  of 
those  who  belong  to  their  number  in  such   emergences. 
I  am  ready  to  die  myself,  rather  than  shrink  from  a  bold 
acknowledgment  of  what  in  my  heart   I  believe  to  be 
the  divinest  truth  ;  but  —  my  wife  and  my  children  !  — 
must  they  too  meet  these  dangers  ?     My  wife  has  be 
come  what  I  am  ;  my  children  are  but  infants;  a  Greek 
vessel  sails  to-morrow  for  Scio,  where  dwells,  in  peace 
ful    security,  the    father  of  my  wife,  from  whom  I  re 
ceived  her,  almost  to  his  distraction  ;    her  death  would 
be  his  immolation.     Should  I  offend'  — 

'  Surely  not,'  I  replied.  *  If,  as  I  believe  will  happen, 
the  edicts  of  the  Emperor  should  be  published  to-day, 
put  them  on  board  to-night,  and  let  to-morrow  see  them 
floating  on  the  Mediterranean.  We  are  not  all  to  stand 
still  and  hold  our  throats  to  the  knife  of  this  imperial 
butcher.' 

'  God  be  thanked ! '  said  Demetrius,  and  grasping  my 


48  AURELIAN. 

hand  with  fervor  turned  quickly  and  moved  in  the  di« 
rection  of  his  home. 

Soon  after,  seated  with  Julia  and  Probus  —  he  had 
joined  me  as  I  parted  from  Demetrius  —  I  communicated 
to  her  all  that  I  had  heard  at  the  palace.  It  neither  sur 
prised  nor  alarmed  her.  But  she  could  not  repress  her 
grief  at  the  prospect  spread  out  before  us  of  so  much 
suffering  to  the  innocent. 

'  How  hard  is  this,'  said  she,  '  to  be  called  to  bear  such 
testimony  as  must  now  be  borne  to  truth  !  These  Chris 
tian  multitudes,  so  many  of  whom  have  but  just  adopted 
their  new  faith  and  begun  to  taste  of  the  pleasures  it  im 
parts,  all  enjoying  in  such  harmony  and  quietness  their 
rich  blessings  —  with  many  their  only  blessings  —  how 
hard  for  them,  all  at  once,  to  see  the  foundations  of  their 
peace  broken  up,  and  their  very  lives  clamored  for  ! 
rulers  and  people  setting  upon  them  as  troops  of  wild 
beasts  !  It  demands  almost  more  faith  than  I  can  boast, 
to  sit  here  without  complaint  a  witness  of  such  wrong. 
How  strange,  Probus,  that  life  should  be  made  so  diffi 
cult  !  That  not  a  single  possession  worth  having  can 
be  secured  without  so  much  either  of  labor  or  endurance  ' 
I  wonder  if  this  is  ever  to  cease  on  earth  ?  ' 

'  I  can  hardly  suppose  that  it  will,'  said  Probus.  '  La 
bor  and  suffering,  in  some  of  their  forms,  seem  both  es 
sential.  My  arm  would  be  weak  as  a  rush  were  it  never 
moved  ;  but  exercised,  and  you  see  it  is  nervous  and 
strong  ;  plied  like  a  smith's,  and  it  grows  to  be  hard  as 
iron  and  capable  of  miracles.  So  it  is  with  any  faculty 
you  may  select ;  the  harder  it  is  tasked  the  more  worthy 
it  becomes  ;  and  without  tasking  at  all,  it  is  worth  noth 
ing.  So  seems  to  me  it  is  with  the  whole  man.  In  a 


AUREL I  AN.  49 

smooth  and  even  lot  our  worth  never  would  be  known, 
and  we  could  respect  neither  ourselves  nor  others.  Great 
ness  and  worth  come  only  of  collision  and  conflict.  Let 
our  path  be  strewed  with  roses,  and  soft  southern  gales 
ever  blow,  and  earth  send  up  of  her  own  accord  our 
ready  prepared  nutriment,  and  mankind  would  be  but 
one  huge  multitude  of  Sybarites,  dissolved  in  sloth  and 
effeminacy.  If  no  difficulty  opposed,  no  labor  exacted, 
body  and  mind  were  dead.  Hence  it  is,  we  may  believe, 
that  man  must  everywhere  labor  even  for  the  food  which 
is  necessary  to  mere  existence.  Life  is  made  dear  to  us 
by  an  instinct  —  we  shrink  from  nothing  as  we  do  from 
the  mere  thought  of  non-existence  —  but  still  it  is  death 
or  toil  ;  that  is  the  alternative.  So  that  labor  is  thus 
insured  wherever  man  is  found,  and  it  is  this  that  makes 
him  what  he  is.  Then  he  is  made,  moreover,  so  as  to 
crave  not  only  food  but  knowledge  as  much,  and  also 
virtue  ;  but  between  him  and  both  these  objects  there 
are  interposed,  for  the  same  reason  doubtless,  mountains 
of  difficulty,  which  he  must  clamber  up  and  over  before 
he  can  bask  in  the  pleasant  fields  that  lie  beyond,  and 
then  ascend  the  distant  mountain-tops,  from  which  but  a 
single  step  removes  him  from  the  abode  of  God.  Doubt 
it  not,  lady,  that  it  is  never  in  vain  and  for  naught  that 
man  labors  and  suffers  ;  but  that  the  good  which  re 
dounds  is  in  proportion  to  what  is  undergone,  and  more 
than  a  compensation.  If,  in  these  times  of  darkness 
and  fear,  suffering  is  more,  goodness  and  faith  are  more 
also.  There  are  Christians,  and  men,  made  by  such 
trials,  that  are  never  made  elsewhere  nor  otherwise  — 
nor  can  be  ;  just  as  the  arm  of  Hercules  could  not  be 
5  VOL.  n. 


50  A  U  R  E  L  1  A  i\  . 

but  by  the  labors  of  Hercules.  What  says  Macei  ?  Why 
even  this,  that  God  is  to  be  thanked  for  this  danger,  for 
that  the  church  needs  it  !  The  brief  prosperity  it  has 
enjoyed  since  the  time  of  Valerian  and  Mucrianus,  has 
corrupted  it,  and  it  must  be  purged  anew,  and  tried  by 
fire  !  I  think  not  that  ;  but  I  think  this  ;  that  if  suffer 
ing  ever  so  extreme  is  ordained,  there  will  be  a  virtue 
begotten  in  the  souls  of  the  sufferers,  and  abroad  througl 
them,  that  shall  prove  it  not  to  have  been  in  vain.' 

'  I  can  believe  what  you  say,'  said  Julia,  '  at  least  .' 
can  believe  in  the  virtue  ascribed  to  labor,  and  the  col 
lision  with  difficulty.  Suffering  is  passive  ;  may  it  not 
be  that  we  may  come  to  place  too  much  merit  in  this  ? ' 

'  It  is  not  to  be  doubted  that  we  may,'  replied  Probus. 
The  temptation  to  do  so  is  great.  It  is  easy  to  suffer. 
In  comparison  with  labor  and  duty  —  life-long  labor  and 
duty  —  it  is  a  light  service.  Yet  it  carries  with  it  an 
imposing  air,  and  is  too  apt  to  take  to  itself  all  the  glory 
of  the  Christian's  course.  Many  who  have  lived  as 
Christians  but  indifferently  have,  in  the  hour  of  perse 
cution,  and  in  the  heat  of  that  hour,  rushed  upon  death 
and  borne  it  well,  and  before  it  extremest  torture,  and 
gained  the  crown  of  martyrdom  and  the  name  of  saint 
—  a  crown  not  always  without  spot  —  a  name  not  al 
ways  honorable.  He  who  suffers  for  Christ  must  suf 
fer  with  simplicity  —  even  as  he  has  lived  with  sim 
plicity.  And  when  he  has  lived  so,  and  endured  the 
martyr's  death  at  last,  that  is  to  be  accounted  but  the 
last  of  many  acts  of  duty  which  are  essentially  alike  — 
unless  it  may  be  that  in  many  a  previous  conflict  over 
temptation  and  the  world  and  sin,  there  was  a  harder  vie- 


AURELIAN.  51 

lory  wen,  and  a  harder  duty  done,  than  when  the  flamea 
consumed  him,  or  the  beasts  tare  him  limb  from  limb.' 

1  Yet,  Probus/  continued  Julia,  '  among  the  humble 
and  the  ignorant,  where  we  cannot  suppose  that  vanity 
could  operate,  where  men  have  received  Christianity 
only  because  it  seemed  to  them  just  the  faith  they  need 
ed,  and  who  then  when  it  has  been  required  that  they 
renounce  it,  will  not  do  so,  but  hold  steadfastly  to  what 
they  regard  the  truth  of  God,  arid  for  it  take  with 
meekness  and  patience  all  manner  of  torture,  and  death 
itself — there  is  surely  here  great  virtue!  Suffering 
here  has  great  worth  and  sets  upon  the  soul  the  seal  of 
God.  Is  it  not  so  ? ' 

*  Most  assuredly  it  is,'  answered  Probus.  '  0  there  is 
no  virtue  on  earth  greater  than  theirs  !  When  dragged 
from  their  quiet  homes  —  unknown,  obscure,  despised, 
solitary,  with  not  one  pitying  eye  to  look  on  upon  their 
sufferings,  with  none  to  record  their  name,  none  to  know 
it  even  —  they  do,  nevertheless,  without  faltering,  keep 
true  to  their  faith,  hugging  it  to  them  the  closer  the  more 
it  is  tried  to  tear  them  asunder —  this,  this  is  virtue  the 
greatest  on  earth  !  It  is  a  testimony  borne  to  the  truth 
of  whatever  cause  is  thus  supported,  that  is  daily  bring 
ing  forth  its  fruits  in  the  conviction  and  conversion  of 
multitudes.  It  is  said,  that  in  the  Decian  persecution,  it 
was  the  fortitude  and  patience  under  the  cruelest  suffer 
ings  of  those  humble  Christians  whom  no  one  knew,  who 
came  none  knew  whence,  and  who  were  dying  out  of  a 
pure  inward  love  of  the  faith  they  professed,  that  fell 
upon  the  hearts  of  admiring  thousands  with  more  than 
the  force  of  miracle,  and  was  the  cause  of  the  great  and 
sudden  growth  of  our  numbers  which  then  took  place- 


52  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

Still,  suffering  and  dying  for  a  faith  is  not  unimpeacha* 
ble  evidence  of  its  truth.  There  have  been  those  who 
have  died  and  suffered  for  idolatries  the  most  abhorred. 
It  is  proof,  indeed,  not  at  all  of  truth  itself,  but  only  of 
the  deep  sincerity  of  him  who  professes  it.' 

'  Yes,'  replied  Julia,  '  I  see  that  it  is  so.     But  then  it 
is  a  presumption  in  behalf  of  truth,  strong  almost  as  mir 
acles  done  for  it,  when  so  many  —  multitudes  —  in    dif 
ferent  ages,  in  the  humblest  condition  of  life,  hesitate  not 
to  die  rather  than  renounce  their  faith  in  a  religion  like 
this  of  Christianity  ;  which  panders  to  not  one  of  man's 
passions,  appetites  or  weaknesses,    but   is    the   severest 
censor  of  morals  the  world  has    ever  seen  ;    which  re 
quires  a  virtue  and  a  purity  in  its  disciples  such  as  no 
philosopher  ever  dared  to    impose    upon    his   scholars  ; 
whose  only  promise  is  immortality — and  that  an  immor 
tality  never  to  be  separated  from  the  idea  of  retribution 
as  making  a  part  of  it.     They,  who  will  suffer  and  die 
for  such  a  religion,  do  by  that  act  work  as  effectively  for 
it,  as  their  master  by  the  signs  and   wonders  which  he 
did.     If  Christianity  were  like  many   of  the    forms    of 
Paganism  ;    or  if  it  ministered  to  the    cravings    of  our 
sensual  nature,  as  we  can  conceive  a  religion  might  do  ; 
if  it  made  the  work  of  life  light,  and  the  reward  certain 
and  glorious  ;  if  it  relieved  its  followers  of  much  of  the 
suffering,  and  fear,  and  doubt,  that    oppress    others  —  it 
would  not  be  surprising  that  men  should  bear  much  fo 
its  sake  ;  and  their  doing  so,  for  what   appealed    so  to 
their  selfishness,  would  be  no  evidence,  at  all  to  be  trus 
ted,  of  its  truth.     But  as  it  is,  they  who  die  for  it  afford 
a  presumption  in  behalf  of  it,  that  appeals  to  the  reason 
almost  or  quite  with  the  force  of  demonstration.     So,  I 


AURELIAN.  53 

remember  well,  my  reason  was  impressed  by  what  I  used 
to  hear  from  Paul  of  the  sufferings  of  the  early  Christians.' 
While  Julia  had  been  saying  these  things,  it  had 
seemed  to  me  as  if  there  was  an  unusual  commotion  in 
the  streets  ;  and  as  she  ended  I  was  about  to  look  for 
the  cause  of  it,  when  the  hasty  steps  of  several  running 
through  the  hall  leading  from  the  main  entrance  of  the 
house  prevented  me,  and  Milo  breathless,  followed  by 
others  of  the  household,  rushed  into  the  apartment 
where  we  sat,  he  exclaiming  with  every  mark  of  fear 
and  horror  upon  his  countenance, 

*  Ah  !  sir,  it  is  all  just  as  I  was  told  by  Curio  it  would 
be;  the  edicts  are  published  on  thecapitol.     The  people 
are  going  about  the  streets  now  in  crowds,  talking  loud 
and  furiously,  and  before  night  they  say  the  Christians 
will  all  be  delivered  to  their  pleasure.' 

Soon  as  Milo  could  pause,  I  asked  him  *  if  he  had 
read  or  seen  the  edicts  ? ' 

*  No,  I  have  not/  he  answered ;  •  I  heard  from  Curio 
what  they  were  to  be.' 

I  told  Julia  and  Probus  that  such  I  did  not  believe  was 
their  tenor.  It  did  not  agree  with  usage,  nor  with  what 
I  had  gathered  from  Aurelian  of  his  designs.  But  that 
their  import  was  probably,  at  present,  no  more  than  de 
privation  of  a  portion  of  their  freedom  and  of  some  of 
their  privileges.  It  was  the  purpose  of  Aurelian  first  to 
convert  back  again  the  erring  multitudes  to  Paganism, 
for  which  time  must  be  granted. 

But  my  words  had  no  effect  to  calm  the  agitation  of 
our  slaves,  who,  filled  with  terror  at  the  reports  of  Milo. 
and  at  the  confusion  in  the  streets,  had  poured  into  the 
5*  VOL.  u. 


54  AURELIAN. 

room,  and  were  showing  in  a  thousand  ways  their  affec 
tion  for  us,  and  their  concern.  Some  of  this  number  are 
Christians,  having  been  made  so  by  the  daily  conversa 
tions  which  Julia  has  had  with  them,  and  the  instruc 
tion  she  has  given  them  in  the  gospels.  Most  however 
are  still  of  that  religion  in  which  they  were  reared,  as 
they  are  natives  of  the  East,  of  the  North,  or  of  Africa. 
But  by  all,  with  slight  differences,  was  the  same  interest 
manifested  in  our  safety.  They  were  ready  to  do  any 
thing  for  our  protection  ;  and  chiefly  urgent  were  they 
that  we  should  that  very  night  escape  from  Rome  — 
they  could  remain  in  security  and  defend  the  palace. 
When  they  had  thus  in  their  simple  way  given  free 
expression  to  their  affections,  I  assured  them  that  no 
immediate  danger  impended,  but  even  if  it  did,  I  should 
not  fly  from  it,  but  should  remain  where  I  was  ;  that 
the  religion  for  which  I  might  suffer  was  worth  to  those 
who  held  it  a  great  deal  more  than  mere  life  —  we 
could  easily  sacrifice  life  for  it,  if  that  should  be  re 
quired.  Some  seemed  to  understand  this  —  others  not ; 
but  they  then  retired,  silent  and  calm,  because  they  saw 
that  we  were  so. 

Soon  as  they  were  withdrawn,  I  proposed  to  Probus 
that  we  should  go  forth  and  learn  the  exact  truth.  We 
accordingly  passed  to  the  street,  which,  as  it  is  one  that 
forms  the  principal  avenue  from  this  part  of  the  city  to 
the  capitol,  we  found  alive  with  numbers  greater  than 
usual,  with  their  faces  turned  toward  that  quarter.  We 
joined  them  and  moved  with  them  in  the  same  direc 
tion.  It  was  a  fearful  thing,  Fausta,  even  to  me,  who 
am  rarely  disturbed  by  any  event,  to  listen  to  the  lan 
guage  which  fell  on  my  ear  on  all  sides  from  the  lips  o» 


AURELIAN.  55 

*>eings  who  wore  the  same  form  as  myself,  and  with  me 
have  a  right  to  the  name  of  man.  It  was  chiefly  that 
of  exultation  and  joy,  that  at  length  the  power  of  the 
state  was  about  to  strike  at  the  root  of  this  growing 
evil  —  that  one  had  taken  hold  of  the  work  who  would 
not  leave  it,  as  others  had,  half  accomplished,  but  would 
finish  it,  as  he  had  every  other  to  which  he  had  put  his 
hand. 

'  Now  we  shall  see,'  cried  one,  « what  he  whose  hand 
bears  the  sword  of  a  true  soldier  can  do,  and  whether 
Aurelian,  who  has  slain  more  foes  of  Rome  abroad  than 
emperor  before  ever  did,  cannot  do  as  well  by  enemies 
at  home.' 

'  Never  doubt  it,'  said  another.  «  Before  the  ides  of 
the  month  now  just  come  in,  not  a  Christian  will  be 
seen  in  the  streets  of  Rome.  They  will  be  swept  out 
as  clean,  as  by  Varus  they  now  are  of  other  filth.  The 
Prefect  is  just  the  man  for  the  times.  Aurelian  could 
not  have  been  better  matched.' 

'  Lucky  this,'  said  still  another  as  he  hurried  away,  '  is 
it  not  ?  Three  vessels  arrived  yesterday  stowed  thick 
with  wild  beasts  from  Africa  and  Asia.  By  the  gods  ! 
there  will  be  no  starving  for  them  now.  The  only  fear 
will  be  that  gorged  so  they  will  lose  their  spirit.' 

*  I  don't  fear  that,'  said  his  older  companion.  *  I  re 
member  well  the  same  game  twenty-five  years  ago.  The 
fact  was  then  that  the  taste  of  human  blood  whetted  it 
for  more  and  more,  and,  though  glutted,  their  rage 
seemed  but  to  become  more  savage  still ;  so  that,  though 
hunger  was  fed  to  the  full,  and  more,  they  fell  upon 
fresh  victims  with  increased  fury  —  with  a  sort  of  maa 
ness  as  it  were.  Such  food,  'tis  said,  crazes  them 


66  A  IT  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

Others  were  soon  next  us  from  whom  I  heard, 
'  Let  every  soul  perish.  I  care  not  for  that  ,  or 
rather  I  do.  Let  all  die  I  say  ;  but  not  in  this  savage 
way.  Let  it  be  done  by  a  proper  accusation,  trial,  and 
judgment.  Let  profession  of  atheism  be  death  by  a  law, 
and  let  the  law  be  executed,  and  the  name  will  soon 
die.  Inevitable  death  under  a  law  for  any  one  who  as 
sumes  the  name,  would  soon  do  the  work  of  extermina 
tion  —  better  than  this  universal  slaughter  which,  I 
hear,  is  to  be  the  way.  Thousands  are  then  overlooked 
in  the  blind  popular  fury  ;  the  work  by  and  by  ceases 
through  weariness  ;  it  is  thought  to  be  completed  — 
when  lo  !  as  the  first  fury  of  the  storm  is  spent,  they 
come  forth  from  their  hiding-places,  and  things  are  but 
little  better  than  before.' 

'  I  think  with  you,'  said  the  younger  companion  of 
him  who  had  just  spoken  ;  '  and  besides,  Romans  need 
not  the  further  instruction  in  the  art  of  assassination, 
which  such  a  service  would  impart.  Already  nothing 
comes  so  like  nature  to  a  Roman  as  to  kill  ;  kill  some 
thing —  if  not  a  beast,  a  slave  —  if  there  is  no  slave  at 
hand,  a  Christian  —  if  no  Christian,  a  citizen.  One 
would  think  we  sucked  in  from  our  mothers  not  milk 
but  blood — the  blood  too  of  our  Parent  Wolf.  If  the  state 
cannot  stand  secure,  as  our  great  men  say,  but  by  the 
destruction  of  this  people,  in  the  name  of  the  gods,  let 
the  executioners  do  the  work,  not  our  sons,  brothers,  and 
fathers.  So  too,  I  say,  touching  the  accursed  games  at 
the  Flavian  and  elsewhere.  What  is  the  effect  but  to 
make  of  us  a  nation  of  man-butchers  ?  as,  by  the  gods, 
we  already  are.  If  the  gods  send  not  something  or 


A  U  11  ELIAN.  67 

somebody  to  mend  us,  we  shall  presently  fall  upon  one 
another  and  exterminate  ourselves.' 

*  Who  knows  but  it  is  this  very  religion  of  the  Chris 
tians  that  has  been  sent  for   that  work  ?'    said    a    third 
who  had  joined   the    two.     *  The  Christians  are  famed 
for  nothing  more  than    for  their   gentleness,   and   their 
care  of  one  another  —  so,  at  least,  I  hear.' 

*  Who  knows,  indeed  ?'  said  the  other.     '  If  it  be  so, 
pity  it  were  not  found  out  soon.     Aurelian    will   make 
short  work  with  them.' 

In  the  midst  of  such  conversation,  which  on  every 
side  caught  our  ears  as  we  walked  silently  along,  we 
came  at  length  to  the  neighborhood  of  the  capitol  ;  but 
so  great  was  the  throng  of  the  people,  who  in  Rome 
have  naught  else  to  do  but  to  rush  together  upon  every 
piece  of  news,  that  we  could  not  even  come  within  sight 
of  the  building,  much  less  of  the  parchment. 

We  accordingly  waited  patiently  to  learn  from  some 
who  might  emerge  from  the  crowd  what  the  precise 
amount  of  the  edicts  might  be.  We  stood  not  long,  be 
fore  one  struggling  and  pushing  about  at  all  adventures, 
red  and  puffing  with  his  efforts,  extricated  himself  from 
the  mass,  and  adjusting  his  dress  which  was  half  torn 
from  his  back,  began  swearing  and  cursing  the  Emperor 
and  his  ministers  for  a  parcel  of  women  and  fools. 

1  What  is  it  ? '  we  asked,  gathering  about  him.  «  What 
have  you  seen  ?  Did  you  reach  the  pillar  ?' 

'  Reach  it  ?  I  did ;  but  my  cloak,  that  cost  yesterday  ten 
good  aurelians,  did  not,  and  here  I  stand  cloakless  — ' 

1  Well,  but  the  edicts.' 

4  Well,  but  the  edicts  !  Be  not  in  a  hurry,  friend  - 
they  are  worth  not  so  much  as  my  cloak.  Blank  parch- 


A  TJ  fl  E  L  I  A  N  . 

tnent  were  just  as  good.  I  wonder  old  '  svvord-in-hand 
didn't  hang  up  a  strip  —  'twould  have  saved  the  expense 
of  a  scrivener.  If  any  of  you  hear  of  a  cloak  found 
hereabouts,  or  any  considerable  part  of  one,  blue  without, 
lined  with  yellow,  and  trimmed  with  gold,  please  to  note 
the  name  sewed  on  beneath  the  left  shoulder,  and  send  it 
according  to  the  direction  and  your  labor  shall  not  be  lost.' 

4  But  the  edicts  — the  edicts.' 

4  O  the  edicts  !  why  they  are  just  this  ;  the  Christians 
are  told  that  they  must  neither  assemble  together  in  their 
houses  of  worship  to  hear  their  priests,  nor  turn  the 
streets  into  places  of  worship  in  their  stead  ;  but  leave 
off  all  their  old  ways  just  as  fast  as  they  can  and 
worship  the  gods.  There's  an  edict  for  you  ! ' 

*  Who  is  this  ? '  said  one  to  Probus. 

*  I  do  not  know  ;    he  seems  sadly  disappointed  at  the 
Emperor's  clemency  as  he  deems  it.' 

But  what  Probus  did  not  know,  another  who  at  the 
moment  came  up,  did  ;  exclaiming,  as  he  slapped  the 
disappointed  man  on  the  shoulder, 

1  What,  old  fellow,  you  here  ?  always  where  mischief 
is  brewing.  But  who  ever  saw  you  without  Nero  and 
Sylla  ?  What  has  happened  ?  and  no  cloak  either  ?' 

*  Nero  and  Sylla  are  in  their  den  —  for   my   cloak  I 
fear  it  is  in  a  worse  place.     But  come,  give    me    your 
arm,  and  let  us  return.     I  thought  a  fine    business  was 
opening,  and  so  ran  up  to  see.     But  it's  all  a  sham.' 

4  It's  only  put  off,'  said  his  companion,  as  they  walked 
away  ;  '  your  dogs  will  have  enough  to  do  before  the 
month  is  half  out  —  if  Pronto  knows  anything.' 

4  That  is  one,  I  see,'  said  he  who  had  spoken  to  Pro- 
bus, '  who  breeds  hounds  for  the  theatres  —  I  thought  I 


AURELIAN.  59 

had  seen  him  before.  His  ordinary  stock  is  not  less 
than  five  hundred  blood-hounds.  He  married  the  sister 
of  the  gladiator  Sosia.  His  name  is  Hanno.' 

Having  heard  enough,  we  turned  away  and  sought 
again  the  Coelian.  You  thus  see,  Fausta,  what  Rome 
is  made  of,  and  into  what  hands  we  may  all  come.  Do 
you  wonder  at  my  love  of  Christianity  ?  at  my  zeal  for 
its  progress  ?  Unless  it  prosper,  unless  it  take  root  and 
spread  through  this  people,  their  fate  is  sealed,  to  my 
mind,  with  the  same  certainty  as  if  I  saw  their  doom 
written  upon  the  midnight  sky  in  letters  of  fire.  Their 
own  wickedness  will  break  them  in  pieces  and  destroy 
them.  It  is  a  weight  beneath  which  no  society  can 
stand.  It  must  give  way  in  general  anarchy  and  ruin. 
But  my  trust  is  that,  in  spite  of  Aurelian  and  of  all  other 
power,  this  faith  will  go  on  its  way,  and  so  infuse  itself 
into  the  mass  as  never  to  be  dislodged,  and  work  out  its 
perfect  ultimate  regeneration. 

By  this  decree  of  the  Emperor  then,  which  was  soon 
published  in  every  part  of  the  capital,  the  Christians  are 
prohibited  from  assembling  together  for  purposes  of 
worship,  their  churches  are  closed,  and  their  preachers 
silenced. 

One  day  intervenes  between  this,  and  the  first  day  of 
the  week,  the  day  on  which  the  Christians  as  you  may 
perhaps  know  assemble  for  their  worship.  In  the  mean 
time  it  will  be  determined  what  course  shall  be  pursued. 

Those  days  have  passed,  Fausta,  and  before  I  seal 
my  letter  I  will  add  to  it  an  account  of  them. 

Immediately  upon  the  publication  of  the  Emperor's  de 
crees,  the  Christians  throughout  the  city  communicated 


60  AURELIAN. 

with  each  other,  and  resolved,  their  places  of  worshijj 
being  all  closed  and  guarded,  to  assemble  secretly,  in 
some  spot  to  be  selected,  both  for  worship  and  to  deter 
mine  what  was  to  be  done,  if  anything,  to  shield  them 
selves  from  the  greater  evils  which  threatened.  The  place 
selected  was  the  old  ruins  where  the  house  of  Macer 
stands.  '  There  still  remains,'  so  Macer  urged,  *  a  vast 
circular  apartment  partly  below  and  partly  above  the  sur 
face  of  the  ground,  of  massy  walls,  without  windows,  re 
mote  from  the  streets,  and  so  surrounded  by  fallen  walls 
and  columns  as  to  be  wholly  buried  from  the  sight.  The 
entrance  to  it  was  through  his  dwelling,  and  the  rooms 
beyond.  Resorting  thither  when  it  should  be  dark,  and 
seeking  his  house  singly  and  by  different  avenues  among 
the  ruins,  there  would  be  little  chance  of  observation 
and  disturbance.'  Macer's  counsel  was  accepted. 

On  the  evening  of  the  first  day  of  the  week  —  a  day 
which  since  I  had  returned  from  the  East  to  Rome  had 
ever  come  to  me  laden  with  both  pleasure  and  profit  — 
I  took  my  way  under  cover  of  a  night  without  star  or 
moon,  and  doubly  dark  by  reason  of  clouds  that  hung 
black  and  low,  to  the  appointed  place  of  assembly.  The 
cold  winds  of  autumn  were  driving  in  fitful  blasts  through 
the  streets,  striking  a  chill  into  the  soul  as  well  as  the 
body.  They  seemed  ominous  of  that  black  and  bitter 
storm  that  was  even  now  beginning  to  break  in  sorrow 
and  death  upon  the  followers  of  Christ.  Before  I 
reached  the  ruins  the  rain  fell  in  heavy  drops,  and  the 
wind  was  rising  and  swelling  into  a  tempest.  It  seemed 
to  me,  in  the  frame  I  was  then  in,  better  than  a  calm. 
It  was  moreover  a  wall  of  defence  against  such  as  might 
be  disposed  to  track  and  betray  us. 


AU  R  E  LIAN  .  61 

Entering  by  the  door  of  Macer's  cell,  I  passed  through 
many  dark  and  narrow  apartments,  following  the  noise 
of  the  steps  of  some  who  were  going  before  me,  till  at 
length  I  emerged  into  the  vaulted  hall  spoken  of  by 
Macer.  It  was  lofty  and  spacious,  and  already  filled 
with  figures  of  men  and  women,  whom  the  dim  light  of 
a  few  lamps,  placed  upon  the  fragments  of  the  fallen 
architecture,  just  enabled  me  to  discern  and  distinguish 
from  the  masses  of  marble  and  broken  columns  which 
strewed  the  interior,  which,  when  they  afforded  a  secure 
footing,  were  covered  with  the  assembled  worshippers. 
The  footsteps  of  those  who  were  the  last  to  enter  soon 
died  away  upon  the  ear,  and  deep  silence  ensued, 
unbroken  by  any  sound  save  that  of  the  sighs  and  weep 
ing  of  such  as  could  not  restrain  their  feelings. 
It  was  interrupted  by  the  voice  of  one  who  said, 
'  That  the  Christians  of  Rome  were  assembled  here 
by  agreement  to  consult  together  concerning  their  affairs, 
which  now,  by  reason  of  the  sudden  hostility  of  Aurelian, 
set  on  by  the  Pagan  priesthood,  had  assumed  a  dark  and 
threatening  aspect.  It  was  needful  so  to  consult ;  that  it 
might  be  well  ascertained  whether  no  steps  could  be  ta 
ken  to  ward  off  the  impending  evil,  and  if  not,  in  what 
manner  and  to  what  extent  we  might  be  able  to  protect 
ourselves.  But  before  this  be  done,'  he  continued,  '  let 
us  all  first  with  one  heart  seek  the  blessing  of  God.  To 
day,  Christians,  for  the  first  time  within  the  memory  of 
the  younger  portion  of  this  assembly,  have  we  by  the 
wicked  power  of  the  state  been  shut  out  of  those  temples 
where  we  have  been  wont  to  offer  up  our  seventh  day 
worship.  Here,  in  this  deep  cavern,  there  is  none  to  a- 
6  VOL.  n. 


62  ATJRELIAN. 

larm  or  interrupt.  Let  us  give  our  first  hour  to  God.  So 
shall  the  day  not  be  lost,  nor  the  enemy  wholly  prevail.' 

'  That  is  right,'  said  another.  '  It  is  what  we  all 
wish.  Let  Probus  speak  to  us  and  pray  for  us.' 

'  Felix  !  Felix  !'  cried  other  voices  in  different  parts 
of  the  room. 

'  Not  so,  but  Probus  !  Probus  !'  shouted  a  far  greater 
number. 

'  Who  does  not  know,'  cried  a  shrill  voice  elevated  to 
its  utmost  pitch,  '  that  Probus  is  a  follower  of  Paul  of 
Samosata  ?' 

*  And  who  does  not   know,'  responded   he    who    had 
first  spoken,  '  that  Felix  follows  after  Plato  and  Plotinus? 
Pagans  both  ! ' 

*  And  what,'  said  the  sharp  voice  of  Macer,  *  what  if 
both  be  true  ?    who  dare  say  that  Felix  is  not  a  Chris 
tian  ?  —  who  dare  say  that  Probus  is  not  a    Christian  ? 

*and  if  they  are  Christians,  who  shall  dare  to  say  they 
may  not  speak  to  Christians  ?  Probus  was  first  asked, 
and  let  Probus  stand  forth.' 

The  name  of  Probus  was  then  uttered  as  it  were  by 
the  whole  assembly. 

As  he  moved  toward  a  more  central  and  elevated  spot, 
the  same  mean  and  shrill  voice  that  had  first  charged 
him,  again  was  heard,  advising  that  no  hymn  nor  chant 
be  sung  :  '  the  Roman  watch  is  now  abroad,  and  despite 
the  raging  of  the  storm  their  ears  may  catch  the  sound 
and  the  guard  be  upon  us.' 

'  Let  them  come  then  !'  shouted  Macer.  '  Let  them 
come  !  Shall  any  fear  of  man  or  of  death  frighten  us 
away  from  the  worship  of  God  ?  What  death  more  glo 
rious  than  if  this  moment  those  doors  gave  way  and  the 


A  IT  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 


63 


legions  of  Aurelian  poured  in  ?  Praise  God  and  Christ 
Christians,  in  the  highest  note  you  can  raise,  and  let  no 
cowardice  seal  your  lips  nor  abate  your  breath.' 

The  voice  of  Probus,  now  heard  in  prayer,  brought  a 
deep  silence  upon  the  assembly,  and  I  would  fain  be 
lieve,  harmony  and  peace  also  into  the  spirits  of  all  who 
were  there.  It  was  a  service  deeply  moving  and  greatly 
comforting.  Whatever  any  who  were  present  might 
have  thought  of  the  principles  of  Probus,  all  must  have 
been  penetrated  and  healed  by  that  devout  and  benevo 
lent  temper  that  was  so  manifest  in  the  sentiments  he 
uttered,  and  in  the  very  tones  of  his  voice. 

No  sooner  had  he  ended  his  prayer  than  the  voice  of 
Macer  broke  forth,  commencing  a  chant  commonly  heard 
in  the  churches  and  with  which  all  were  familiar.  His 
voice,  louder  than  that  of  the  storm  and  shriller  than 
the  blast  of  a  war-trumpet,  rang  through  the  vast  apart 
ment,  and  inspiring  all  who  were  there  with  the  same 
courage  that  possessed  himself,  their  voices  were  in 
stinctively  soon  joined  with  his,  and  the  hymn  swelled 
upward  with  a  burst  of  harmony  that  seemed  as  if  it 
might  reach  Heaven  itself.  Rome  and  its  legions  were 
then  as  if  they  did  not  exist.  God  only  was  present  to 
the  mind,  and  the  thoughts  with  which  that  hymn  filled 
it.  Its  burden  was  like  this  : 

1  0  God  almighty,  God  of  Christ  our  Lord,  arise  and 
defend  thy  people.  The  terrors  of  death  are  around  us 
the  enemies  of  truth  and  thy  Son  assail  us,  and  we  faint 
and  are  afraid.  Their  hosts  are  encamped  against  us  ; 
they  are  ready  to  devour  us.  Our  hope  is  in  thee  : 
Strengthen  and  deliver  us.  Arise,  0  God,  and  visit  us 
with  thy  salvation.1 


64  A  U  R  E  L  1  A  K. 

These,  and  words  like  them,  repeated  with  import*- 
nity  and  dwelt  upon,  the  whole  soul  pouring  itself  out 
with  the  notes,  while  tears  ran  down  the  cheeks  of  those 
who  sang — the  sign  not  of  weakness  but  of  the  strength 
of  those  affections  which  bound  their  hearts  to  God,  to 
Christ,  and  to  one  another  —  it  seemed  as  if  such  words 
and  so  uttered  could  not  but  draw  a  blessing  down-  As 
the  hymn  drew  to  a  close  and  the  sounds  died  away, 
deep  silence  again  fell  upon  the  assembly.  The  heart 
had  been  relieved  by  the  service  ;  the  soul  had  been 
rapt  and  borne  quite  away  ;  and  by  a  common  feeling 
an  interval  of  rest  ensued,  which  by  each  seemed  to  be 
devoted  to  meditation  and  prayer.  This,  when  it  had 
lasted  till  the  wants  of  each  had  been  satisfied,  was  bro 
ken  by  the  voice  of  Probus. 

What  he  said  was  wonderfully  adapted  to  infuse  fresh 
courage  into  every  heart,  and  especially  to  cheer  and 
support  the  desponding  and  the  timid.  He  held  up  be 
fore  them  the  great  examples  of  those  who,  in  the  earlier 
ages  of  the  church,  had  offered  themselves  as  sacrifices 
upon  the  same  altar  upon  which  the  great  head  of  the 
Christians  had  laid  down  his  life.  He  made  it  apparent 
how  it  had  ever  been  through  suffering  of  some  kind  on 
the  part  of  some,  that  great  benefits  had  been  conferred 
upon  mankind  ;  that  they  who  would  be  benefactors  of 
their  race  must  be  willing  cheerfully  to  bear  the  evil  and 
suffering  that  in  so  great  part  constitutes  that  office  ;  and 
was  it  not  a  small  thing  to  suffer,  and  that  in  the  body 
only,  and  but  for  a  moment,  if  by  such  means  great  and 
permanent  blessings  to  the  souls  of  men  might  be  se 
cured,  and  remotest  ages  of  the  world  made  to  rejoice 
and  flourish  through  the  effects  of  their  labors  ?  Every 


AURELIAN.  65 

day  of  their  worship  they  were  accustomed  to  hear  sung 
or  recited  the  praises  of  those  who  had  died  for  Christ 
and  truth  ;  men  of  whom  the  world  was  not  worthy,  and 
who,  beautiful  with  the  crown  of  martyrdom,  were  now 
of  that  glorious  company  who,  in  the  presence  of  God, 
were  chanting  the  praises  of  God  and  the  Lamb.  Who 
was  not  ready  to  die,  if  it  were  so  ordained,  if  by  such 
death  truth  could  be  transmitted  to  other  ages  ?  What 
was  it  to  die  to-day  rather  than  to-morrow  —  for  that 
was  all — or  this  year  rather  than  the  next,  if  one's  death 
could  be  made  subservient  to  the  great  cause  of  Christ 
and  his  gospel  ?  What  was  it  to  die  by  the  sword  of  a 
Roman  executioner,  or  even  to  be  torn  by  wild  beasts,  if 
by  suffering  so  the  soul  became  allied  to  reformers  and 
benefactors  of  all  ages  ?  And  besides,  what  evil  after 
all  was  it  in  the  power  of  their  enemies  to  inflict  ?  They 
could  do  no  more  than  torment  and  destroy  the  body. 
They  could  not  touch  nor  harm  the  soul.  By  the  in 
fliction  of  death  itself  they  did  but  hasten  the  moment 
when  they  should  stand  clothed  in  shining  garments  in 
the  presence  of  the  Father.  *  The  time  has  come,  Chris 
tians,'  he  then  said,  '  when,  in  the  providence  of  God, 
you  are  called  upon  to  be  witnesses  of  the  faith  which 
you  profess  in  Christ.  After  many  years  of  calm,  a 
storm  has  arisen,  which  begins  already  to  be  felt  in  the 
violence  with  which  it  beats  upon  our  heads.  Almost 
ever  since  the  reign  of  Decius  have  we  possessed  our 
borders  in  quietness.  Especially  under  Gallienus  and 
Claudius,  and  during  these  nearly  four  years  of  Aurelian, 
have  we  enjoyed  our  faith  and  our  worship  with  none 
lo  alarm  or  oppress  us.  The  laws  of  the  empire  have 
6*  VOL.  n. 


66  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

been  as  a  wall  of  defence  between  us  and  tire  fierce  and 
bloody  spirit  of  Pagan  superstition.  They  who  would 
have  willingly  assailed  and  destroyed  us  have  been  forci 
bly  restrained  by  wise  and  merciful  enactments.  During 
this  season  of  repose  our  numbers  have  increased,  we 
have  been  prosperous  and  happy.  Our  churches  have 
multiplied,  and  all  the  signs  of  an  outward  prosperity 
have  been  visible  in  all  parts  of  this  vast  empire.  Would 
to  God  I  could  say  that  while  numbers  and  wealth  have 
been  added  to  the  church,  it  had  grown  in  grace  and  in  the 
practice  of  the  virtues  of  the  gospel  in  the  same  proportion ! 
But  I  cannot.  The  simplicity  and  purity  of  the  first  ages 
are  no  longer  to  be  seen  among  us.  We  no  longer 
emulate  the  early  apostles  and  make  them  our  patterns. 
We  rather  turn  to  the  Pagan  and  Jewish  priesthood,  and 
in  all  that  pertains  to  the  forms  of  our  worship  mould 
ourselves  upon  them  ;  and  in  all  that  pertains  to  opinion 
and  doctrine  we  turn  to  the  philosophers,  and  engraft, 
whatever  of  their  mysteries  and  subtleties  we  can,  upon 
the  plain  and  simple  truth  of  Jesus.  We  have  departed 
far,  very  far,  from  the  gospel  standard,  both  in  practice 
and  in  faith.  We  need,  Christians,  to  be  brought  back. 
We  have  gone  astray  —  we  have  almost  worshipped 
other  gods,  —  it  is  needful  that  we  return  in  season  to 
our  true  allegiance.  I  dare  not  say,  Christians,  that 
the  calamity  which  now  impends  is  a  judgment  of  God' 
upon  our  corruptions  ;  we  know  not  what  events  are  of 
a  judicial  character,  they  have  upon  them  no  signature 
which  marks  them  as  such  ;  but  this  we  may  say,  that 
it  will  be  no  calamity,  but  a  benefit  and  a  blessing  rather, 
if  it  have  the  effect  to  show  us  our  errors,  and  cause  us 
to  retrace  our  steps.  Aurelian,  enemy  though  we  cab 


AUREL1AN 


67 


him,  may  prove  our  benefactor  ;  he  may  scourge  us, 
but  the  sufferings  he  inflicts  may  bring  healing  along 
with  them,  being  that  very  medicine  which  the  sick  soul 
needs.  Let  us  meet  then  this  new  and  heavy  trial  as  a 
part  of  the  providence  of  God,  as  a  part  of  that  mysteri 
ous  plan  —  the  lines  of  which  are  in  so  great  part  hidden 
from  our  eyes  —  by  which  he  educates  his  children,  and 
at  the  same  time,  and  by  the  same  means,  prepares  and 
transmits  to  future  generations  the  richest  blessings.  If 
we,  Christians,  suffer  for  the  cause  of  truth,  if  our  blood 
is  poured  out  like  water,  let  us  remember  that  it  serves 
to  fertilize  that  soil  out  of  which  divine  nutriment  shall 
grow  for  generations  yet  unborn,  whom  it  shall  nourish 
up  unto  a  better  life.  Let  your  hearts  then  be  strong 
within  you  ;  faint  not,  nor  fear  ;  God  will  be  with  you 
and  his  Spirit  comfort  you. 

4  But  why  do  I  say  these  things  ?  Why  do  I  exhort 
you  to  courage  ?  For  when  was  it  known  that  the  fol 
lowers  of  Christ  shrunk  from  the  path  of  duty,  though 
it  were  evidently  the  path  of  death  ?  When  and  in 
what  age  have  those  been  wanting  who  should  bear  wit 
ness  to  the  truth,  and  seal  it  with  their  blood  ?  There 
have  been  those  who  in  time  of  persecution  have  fallen 
away  —  but  for  one  apostate  there  have  been  a  thousand 
martyrs.  We  have  been,  I  may  rather  affirm,  too 
prodigal  of  life  —  too  lavish  of  our  blood.  There  has 
been,  in  former  ages,  not  only  a  willingness,  a  readiness 
to  die  for  Christ,  but  an  eagerness.  Christians  have 
not  waited  to  be  searched  for  and  found  by  the  ministers 
of  Roman  power  ;  they  have  thrust  themselves  forward  ; 
they  have  gone  up  of  their  own  accord  to  the  tribunal 
and  proclaimed  their  faith,  and  invited  the  death  a» 


68  AURELIAN. 

which  nature  trembles  and  revolts.  But  shall  we 
blamje  this  divine  ardor  ?  this  more  than  human  con 
tempt  of  suffering  and  death  ?  this  burning  zeal  for  the 
great  cause  of  our  Master  ?  Let  us  rather  nonor  and 
revere  it  as  a  temper  truly  divine  and  of  more  than 
mortal  force.  But  let  us  be  just  to  all.  While  we 
honor  the  courage  and  self-sacrificing  love  of  so  many, 
let  us  not  require  that  all  should  be  such,  nor  cast  sus 
picion  upon  those  who  —  loving  Christ  not  less  in  their 
hearts  —  shrink  from  the  sufferings  in  which  others 
glory.  Ye  need  not,  Christian  men  and  women,  your 
selves  rush  to  the  tribunal  of  Varus,  ere  you  can  feel 
that  you  are  Christ's  indeed.  It  is  not  needful  that  to 
be  a  Christian  you  must  also  be  a  martyr.  Ye  need 
not,  ye  ought  not,  impatiently  seek  for  the  rack  arid  the 
cross.  It  is  enough  if,  \vhen  sought  and  found  and  ar 
raigned,  you  be  found  faithful ;  if  then  you  deny  not 
nor  renounce  your  Lord,  but  glory  in  your  name,  and 
with  your  dying  breath  shout  it  forth  as  that  for  which 
you  gladly  encounter  torture  and  death.  Go  not  forth 
then  seeking  the  martyr's  crown  !  Wait  till  you  are 
called.  God  knoweth,  and  he  alone,  whom  he  would 
have  to  glorify  him  by  that  death  which  is  so  much 
more  to  be  coveted  than  life.  Leave  all  in  the  hand  of 
Providence.  You  that  are  not  chosen,  fear  not  that, 
though  later,  the  gates  of  Heaven  shall  not  be  thrown 
open  for  you.  Many  are  the  paths  that  lead  to  those 
gates.  Besides,  shall  all  rush  upon  certain  death  ? 
Were  all  martyrs,  where  then  were  the  seed  of  the 
church  ?  They  who  live,  and  by  their  life,  consecrate  to 
holiness  and  God,  show  that  they  are  his,  do  no  less  for 
their  Master  and  his  cause  than  do  they  who  die  for 


AU  RE  LI  AN.  69 

that  cause.  Nay,  't  is  easier  to  die  well  than  to  live 
well.  The  cross  which  we  bear  through  a  long  life  of 
iaithful  service,  is  a  heavier  one  than  that  which  we 
bear  as  we  go  up  our  Calvary.  Leave  all  then,  Chris 
tian  men  and  women,  in  the  hands  of  God.  Seek  not 
death  nor  life.  Shun  not  life  nor  death.  Say  each, 
"  Here,  Lord,  is  thy  servant,  do  with  him  as  shall  seem 
to  thee  good." 

'  And  now,  Christians,  how  shall  we  receive  the  edict  of 
Aurelian  ?  It  silences  our  preachers,  it  closes  our  church 
es.  What  now  is  the  duty  of  the  Christians  of  Rome  ?  ' 

Soon  as  this  question  was  proposed  by  Probus,  many 
voices  from  various  parts  of  the  room  gave  in  their  judg 
ments.  At  first,  the  opinions  expressed  differed  on  many 
points  :  but  as  the  discussion  was  prolonged  the  differ 
ence  grew  less  and  less,  till  unanimity  seemed  to  be 
attained.  It  was  agreed  at  length,  that  it  was  right  to 
conform  to  the  edict  so  far  as  this  :  '  That  they  would 
not  preach  openly  in  the  streets  nor  elsewhere  ;  they 
would,  at  first,  and  scrupulously,  conform  to  the  edict  in 
its  letter  and  spirit —  until  they  had  seen  what  could  be 
done  by  appeals  both  to  the  Emperor  and  the  senate  ; 
but,  maintaining  at  the  same  time,  that  if  their  appeals 
were  vain,  if  their  churches  were  not  restored  to  them 
with  liberty  to  assemble  in  them  as  formerly  and  for  the 
same  purposes  —  then  they  would  take  the  freedom  that 
was  not  granted,  and  use  it  as  before,  and  abide  by  the 
issue  ;  no  power  of  man  should  close  their  mouths  as 
ambassadors  of  God,  as  followers  of  Christ  and  through 
him  reformers  of  the  world  ;  they  would  speak  —  they 
would  preach  and  pray,  though  death  were  the  imme 
diate  reward.' 


70  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

In  this  determination  I  heartily  agreed  as  toth  mode 
rate  and  yet  firm  ;  as  showing  respect  for  the  powers  tha< 
are  over  us,  and  at  the  same  time  asserting  our  own 
rights,  and  declaring  our  puspose  to  stand  by  them.  But 
so  thought  not,  all.  For  no  sooner  was  the  opinion  of 
the  assembly  declared  than  Macer  broke  forth  : 

'  I  have  heard,'  said  he,  *  the  judgment  which  has 
"been  pronounced.  But  I  like  it  not  —  I  agree  not  to  it. 
Shall  the  minister  of  Christ,  the  ambassador  of  God,  a 
messenger  from  Heaven  to  earth,  hold  his  peace  at  the 
behest  of  a  man,  though  lie  be  an  emperor,  or  of  ten 
thousand  men,  were  all  emperors  ?  Not  though  every 
Christian  in  Rome  subscribed  to  this  judgment,  not 
though  every  Christian  in  the  world  assented  to  it, 
would  I.  Is  Christ  to  receive  laws  of  Aurelian  ?  Is 
the  cause  of  God  and  truth  to  be  postponed  to  that  of  the 
empire  ?  and  posterity  to  die  of  hunger  because  we  refuse 
to  till  the  earth  ?  We  are  God's  spiritual  husbandmen 
—  the  heart  of  Rome  is  our  field  of  labor  —  it  is  already 
the  eleventh  hour —  the  last  days  are  at  hand  —  and 
shall  we  forbear  our  toil  ?  shall  we  withdraw  our  hand 
from  the  plough  ?  shall  we  cease  to  proclaim  the  glad 
tidings  of  salvation  because  the  doors  of  our  churches 
are  closed  ?  Not  so,  Christians,  by  the  blessing  of  God, 
shall  it  be  with  me.  While  the  streets  of  Rome  and 
her  door-stones  will  serve  me  for  church  and  pulpit,  and 
while  my  tongue  is  left  unwrenched  from  my  mouth, 
will  I  not  cease  to  declare  Jesus  Christ  and  him  cruci 
fied  !  Think  you  Aurelian  will  abate  his  wrath  or 
change  his  purposes  of  death,  for  all  your  humble  sue 
ing  ?  that  cringing  and  fawning  will  turn  aside  the  mes 
sengers  of  death  ?  Believe  it  not.  Ye  know  not  AM- 


A  CT  R  E  L I  AN .  71 

relian.  More  would  ye  gain  with  him,  did  the  faith  of 
the  peace-loving  Jesus  allow  it,  if  ye  went  forth  in  battle 
array  and  disputed  this  great  question  in  the  streets  of 
Rome  sword  in  hand  !  More  would  ye  gain  now,  if  ye 
sent  a  word  of  defiance  —  denying  his  right  to  interpose 
between  God  and  his  people  —  between  Christ  and  his 
church  —  and  daring  him  to  do  his  worst,  than  by  this 
tame  surrender  of  your  rights —  this  almost  base  denial 
of  your  Master.  No  sooner  shall  to-morrow's  sun  have 
risen,  than  on  the  very  steps  of  the  capitol  will  I  preach 
Christ,  and  hurl  the  damnation  of  God  upon  this  bloody 
Emperor  and  his  bloody  people.' 

'  O,  Macer,  Macer  !  cease,  cease  ! '  cried  a  woman's 
voice  from  the  crowd.  '  You  know  not  what  you  say  ! 
Already  have  your  harsh  words  put  new  bitterness  into 
Aurelian's  heart.  Forbear,  as  you  love  Christ  and  us.' 

'  Woman  — '  replied  Macer,  '  for  such  your  voice  de 
clares  you  to  be  —  I  do  love  both  Christ  and  you,  and  it 
is  because  I  love  you  that  I  aim  to  set  aside  this  faith- 
Jess  judgment  of  the  Roman  Christians.  But  when  I 
say  I  love  you  and  the  believers  in  Rome,  I  mean  your 
souls,  not  your  bodies.  I  love  not  your  safety,  nor  your 
peace,  nor  your  outward  comforts  ;  your  houses,  nor 
your  wealth,  nor  your  children,  nor  your  lives,  nor  any 
thing  that  is  yours  which  the  eye  can  see  or  the  hands 
handle.  I  love  your  souls,  and,  beside  them,  nothing. 
And  while  it  is  them  I  love,  and  for  them  am  bound  in 
the  spirit  as  a  minister  of  Christ,  I  may  not  hold  my  peace, 
nor  hide  myself,  for  that  there  is  a  lion  in  the  path  !  As 
a  soldier  of  the  cross  I  will  never  flee.  Though  at  the 
last  day  I  hear  no  other  word  of  praise  from  Him  the 
judge — and  no  other  shall  I  hear,  for  my  Pagan  sins 


72  AURELIAN. 

weigh  me  down  —  down  —  help,  Lord  !  or  I  perish  ! — 
Macer's  voice  here  took  the  tone  of  deepest  agony  he 
seemed  for  a  time  wholly  lost,  standing  sti1!,  with  out 
stretched  arms  and  uplifted  eye.  After  a  long  pause  he 
suddenly  resumed.  '  What  did  I  say  ?  —  It  was  this  : 
though  I  hear  no  other  word  of  praise  from  my  judge  as 
I  stand  at  his  judgment-seat,  I  trust  I  shall  hear  this,  that 
I  did  not  flee  nor  hide  myself,  that  I  was  no  coward,  but 
a  bold  and  fearless  soldier  of  the  cross,  ready  at  anytime 
and  at  all  times  to  suffer  for  the  souls  of  my  brethren.' 

'  Think  not,  Macer,'  said  Probus,  '  that  we  shrink  at 
the  prospect  of  danger.  But  we  would  be  not  only  bold 
and  unshrinking,  but  wise  and  prudent.  There  is  more 
than  one  virtue  goes  :o  make  the  Christian  man.  We 
think  it  right  and  wise  first  to  appeal  to  the  Emperor's 
love  of  justice.  We  think  it  might  redound  greatly  to 
our  advantage  if  we  could  obtain  a  public  hearing  before 
Aurelian,  so  that  from  one  of  our  own  side  he,  with  all 
the  nobility  of  Rome,  might  hear  the  truth  in  Christ, 
and  then  judge  whether  to  believe  so  was  hurtful  to  the 
state,  or  deserving  of  torture  and  death.' 

4  As  well,  Probus,'  replied  Macer,  '  might  you  preach 
the  faith  of  Christ  in  the  ear  of  the  adder  !  to  the  very 
stones  of  the  highways  !  Aurelian  turn  from  a  settled 
purpose  !  ha  !  ha  !  you  have  not  served,  Probus,  under 
him  in  Gaul  and  Asia  as  others  have.  Never  did  the 
arguments  of  his  legions  and  his  great  officers  on  the 
other  side,  serve  but  to  intrench  him  the  more  impreg- 
nably  in  his  own.  He  knows  not  what  the  word  change 
means.  But  were  this  possible,  and  of  good  hope,  it 
shows  not  that  plain  and  straight  path  to  which  my  spirit 
points,  and  which  therefore  I  must  travel.  Is  it  right  to 


A  TJ  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  tf 

hearken  to  man  rather  than  God  ?  That  to  me  is  the 
onlv  question.  Shall  Aurelian  silence  the  ambassador 
of  God  and  Christ  ?  Shall  man  wrestle  and  difp'ite  it 
with  the  Almighty  ?  God,  or  Aurelian,  which  shal/  *• 
be  ?  To  me,  Christians,  it  would  be  a  crime  of  deeper 
dye  than  the  errors  of  my  Pagan  youth,  did  I  chain  mv 
tongue,  were  it  but  for  an  hour,  at  the  command  of  Au 
relian.  I  have  a  light  within,  and  it  is  that  I  must  obev. 
I  reason  not  —  I  weigh  not  probabilities  —  I  balance  not 
argument  against  argument  —  I  feel  !  and  that  I  take  to 
be  the  instinct  of  God — the  inspiration  of  his  holy  Spirit 
—and  as  I  feel  so  am  I  bound  to  act.' 

It  was  felt  to  be  useless  to  reason  with  this  impetuons 
and  self-willed  man.  He  must  be  left  to  work  out  his 
own  path  through  the  surrounding  perils,  and  bear  what 
ever  evil  his  violent  rashness  might  draw  upon  his  head. 
Yet  his  are  those  extreme  and  violent  opinions  and  feel 
ings  which  are  so  apt  to  carry  away  the  multitude,  and 
it  was  easy  to  see  that  a  large  proportion  of  the  assembly 
went  with  him.  Another  occasion  was  given  for  their 
expression. 

When  it  had  been  determined  that  the  edicts  should 
be  observed  so  far  as  to  refrain  from  all  public  preaching 
and  all  assembling  together,  till  the  Emperor  had  been 
first  appealed  to,  it  then  became  a  question  in  what  man 
ner  he  should  be  approached,  and  by  whom,  in  behalf 
of  the  whole  body.  And  no  sooner  had  Macer  ceased, 
than  the  same  voice  which  had  first  brought  those  char 
ges  against  Probus  was  again  heard — the  voice  as  I  have 
since  learned  of  a  friend  of  Felix,  and  an  exorcist. 

*  If  it  be  now  determined,'  said  the  voice,  '  that  we  ap- 
7  VOL. 


74  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N. 

peal  to  tne  clemency  of  the  Emperor  in  orcUr  to  avert 
Horn  our  heaas  tne  evil  that  seems  to  be  more  than 
inreateneu,  let  it  be  done  by  some  one  who  in  his  faith 
may  n.iy  represent  the  great  body  of  Christ's  followers. 
Wheirier  the  Emperor  shall  feel  well  inclined  toward  us 
or  not,  will  it  not  greatly  depend  upon  the  manner  in 
wm'cn  the  truth  in  Christ  shall  be  set  forth,  and  whether 
by  means  of  the  principles  and  doctrines  that  shall  be 
shown  to  belong  to  it  and  constitute  it,  it  shall  be  judged 
by  him  to  be  of  hurtful  or  beneficial  tendency  ?  Now  it 
is  well  known  to  all  how  variously  Christ  is  received 
and  interpreted  in  Rome.  As  received  by  some,  his 
gospel  is  one  thing  ;  as  received  by  others,  it  is  another 
aria  quite  a  different  thing.  Who  can  doubt  that  our 
prospect  of  a  favorable  hearing  with  Aurelian  will  be  an 
encouraging  one  in  the  proportion  that  he  shall  perceive 
our  opinions  to  agree  with  those  which  have  already 
been  advanced  in  the  schools  of  philosophy  —  especially 
in  tnat  of  the  divine  Plato.  This  agreement  and  almost 
identity  has,  ever  since  the  time  of  Justin,  been  pointed 
out  and  learnedly  defended.  They  who  perceive  this 
agreement,  and  rest  in  it  as  their  faith,  now  constitute 
tne  greater  part  of  the  Christian  world.  Let  him  then 
\\no  is  to  bespeak  for  us  the  Emperor's  good-will  be,  as 
in  good  sooth  he  ought  to  be,  of  these  opinions.  As  to 
the  declaration  that  has  been  made  that  one  is  as  much 
a  Christian  as  another,  whatever  the  difference  of  faith 
may  be,  I  cannot  receive  it ;  and  he  who  made  the  decla 
ration,  I  doubt  would  scarce  abide  by  it,  since  as  I  learn 
he  is  a  worshipper  and  follower  of  that  false-hearted 
interloper  Novatian.  The  puritans  least  of  all  are  apt  to 
regard  with  favor  those  who  hold  not  with  them.  Let 


A  U  E  E  L  I  A  N  .  75 

Felix  then,  who,  if  any  now  living  in  Rome  may  stand 
forward  as  a  specimen  of  what  Christ's  religion  is  in 
both  its  doctrine  and  its  life  —  let  Felix  plead  our  cause 
with  Aurelian.' 

The  same  difference  of  feeling  and  opinion  manifested 
itself  as  before.  Many  voices  immediately  cried  out, 
'  Yes,  yes,  Felix,  let  Felix  speak  for  us.'  While  others 
from  every  part  of  the  room  were  heard  shouting  out, 
'  Probus,  Probus,  let  Probus  be  our  advocate  ! ' 

At  length  the  confusion  subsided  as  a  single  voice 
made  itself  heard  above  the  others  and  caught  their  at 
tention,  saying, 

'  If  Felix,  0  Christians,  as  has  just  been  affirmed, 
represents  the  opinions  which  are  now  most  popular  in 
the  Christian  world,  at  least  here  in  Rome,  Probus  rep 
resents  those  which  are  more  ancient  —  '  He  was  in 
stantly  interrupted. 

'  How  long  ago,'  cried  another,  '  lived  Paul  of  Sa- 
mosata  ? ' 

1  When  died  the  heretic  Sabellius  ?'  added  still  ano 
ther. 

'  Or  Praxeas  ?'  said  a  third,  *  or  Theodotos  ?  or  Ar- 
temon  ?' 

'  These,'  replied  the  first,  soon  as  he  could  find  room 
for  utterance — '  these  are  indeed  not  of  the  earliest  age, 
but  they  from  whom  they  learned  their  faith  are  of  that 
age,  namely,  the  apostles  and  the  great  master  of  all.' 

'  Heresy,'  cried  out  one  who  had  spoken  before,  '  al 
ways  dates  from  the  oldest  ;  it  never  has  less  age  nor 
authority  than  that  of  Christ.' 

*  Christians  !  Christians  ! '  Macer's  stentorian  voice 
was  now  heard  towering  above  the  tumult,  'what  is  it 


/6  AT7REL1AN. 

yr  would  have  ?  What  are  these  distinctions  abou 
which  ye  dispute  ?  What  have  they  to  do  with  the  mat* 
ter  now  in  hand  ?  How  would  one  doctrine  or  the  other 
in  such  matters  weigh  with  Aurelian  more  than  straws 
or  feathers  ?  But  if  these  are  stark  naught,  and  less 
than  naught,  there  are  other  questions  pertinent  to  the 
time,  nay,  which  the  time  forces  upon  us,  and  about 
which  we  should  be  well  agreed.  A  new  age  of  perse- 
3Ution  has  arisen,  and  the  church  is  about  to  be  sifted, 
and  the  wheat  separated  from  the  chaff — the  first  to  be 
gathered  into  the  garners  of  God,  the  last  to  be  burnt 
up  in  fire  unquenchable.  Now  is  it  to  be  proved  who 
are  Christ's,  and  who  are  not  —  who  will  follow  him 
bearing  their  cross  to  some  new  Calvary,  and  who, 
saving  their  lives,  shall  yet  lose  them.  Who  knows  not 
the  evil  that,  in  the  time  of  Decius,  yes,  and  before  and 
since  too,  fell  upon  the  church  from  the  so  easy  recep 
tion  and  restoration  of  those  who,  in  an  hour  of  weak 
ness  and  fear,  denied  their  master  and  his  faith,  and 
bowed  the  knee  to  the  gods  of  Rome?  Here  is  the  dan 
ger  against  which  we  are  to  guard;  from  this  quarter — 
not  from  any  other  of  vain  jargon  concerning  natures, 
essences,  and  modes  of  being  —  are  we  to  look  for  those 
fatal  inroads  to  be  made  upon  the  purity  of  the  gospel, 
that  cannot  but  draw  along  with  them  corruption  and 
ruin.  Of  what  stuff  will  the  church  then  be  made,  when 
they  who  are  its  ministers,  deacons  and  bishops,  shall  be 
such  as,  when  danger  showed  itself,  relapsed  into  idola 
try,  and,  soon  as  the  clouds  had  drifted  by,  and  the 
winds  blew  soft,  came  forth  again  into  the  calm  sun« 
snine,  renounced  their  idolatry,  and  again  professing 
Christ,  were  received  to  the  arms  of  the  church,  and 


A  U  RE  LI  AN.  Tt 

even  to  the  communion  of  the  body  and  blood  of  our 
Lord  ?  Christians,  the  great  Novation  is  ne  to  whom 
we  owe  what  purity  the  church  yet  retains,  and  it  is  in 
allegiance  to  him  — ' 

*  The  great  Novatian  ! '  exclaimed  a  priest  of  the  Ko. 
man  church,  'great  only  in  his  infamy!  Himself  an 
apostate  once,  he  sought  afterwards,  having  been  re 
ceived  himself  back  again  to  the  church  upon  his  repen 
tance,  to  bury  his  shame  under  a  show  of  zeal  against 
such  as  were  guilty  of  the  same  offence.  His  own 
weakness  or  sin,  instead  of  teaching  him  compassion, 
served  but  to  harden  his  heart.  Is  this  the  man  to 
whose  principles  we  are  to  pledge  ourselves  ?  Were 
his  principles  sound  in  themselves,  we  could  hardly  take 
them  from  such  a  source.  But  they  are  false.  They 
are  in  the  face  of  the  spirit  and  letter  of  the  gospel. 
What  is  the  character  of  the  religion  of  Christ,  if  it  be 
not  mercy  ?  Yet  this  great  Novatian,  to  those  who  like 
Peter  have  fallen — Peter  whom  his  master  received  and 
forgave  —  denies  all  mercy  !  and  for  one  offence,  how 
ever  penitence  may  wring  the  soul,  cuts  them  oft'  for 
ever  like  a  rotten  branch  from  the  body  of  Christ  !  Is 
this  the  teacher  whose  follower  should  appeal  for  us  to 
the  Roman  Emperor  ?' 

'  I  seek  not,'  Macer  began  to  say,  '  to  defend  the  bish 
op  of  Rome  — ' 

4  Bishop  ! '  cried  the  other,  '  bishop  !  who  ever  heard 
that  Novatian  was  bishop  of  Rome  ?  But  who  has  not 
heard  that  that  wicked  and  ambitious  man  through  envy 
yf  Cornelius,  and  resolved  to  supplant  him,  caused  him 
self  to  be  ordained  bishop  by  a  few  of  that  order,  weaif 
7*  VOL.  n. 


'  «  AURELIAN. 

and  corrupt  men,  whom  he  bribed  to  the  bad  work,  but 
wno,  corrupt  as  they  were,  and  bribed  as  they  were,  it 
was  first  needful  to  make  drunk  before  conscience 
would  allow  them  by  such  act  eternally  to  disgrace 
themselves  and  the  church  — ' 

•  Lies  ana  slanders  all,'  cried  Macer  and  others  with 
him,  in  the  same  breath  and  with  their  utmost  voice. 
The  greatest  confusion  prevailed.  A  thousand  contra 
dictory  cries  were  heard.  In  the  midst  of  the  uproar 
the  name  of  Macer  was  proclaimed  by  many  as  that  of 
one  who  would  best  assert  and  defend  the  Christian 
cause  before  Aurelian.  But  these  were  soon  overborne 
and  silenced  by  a  greater  number,  who  now  again  call 
ed  upon  Probus  to  fill  that  office. 

Probus  seemed  not  sorry  that,  his  name  being  thus 
tumultuously  called  out,  he  had  it  again  in  his  power 
to  speak  to  the  assembly.  Making  a  sign  accordingly 
that  he  would  be  heard,  he  said, 

'  That  he  coveted  not  the  honorable  office  of  appeal 
ing  for  them  to  the  Emperor  of  Rome.  It  would  confer 
more  happiness  a  thousand  fold,  Christians,  if  I  could  by 
any  words  of  mine  put  harmony  and  peace  into  your 
hearts,  than  if  I  might  even  convert  a  Roman  emperor. 
What  a  scene  of  confusion  and  discord  is  this,  at  such 
an  hour,  when,  if  ever,  our  hearts  should  be  drawn  clo 
ser  together  by  this  exposure  to  a  common  calamity. 
Why  is  it  that  when  at  home,  or  moving  abroad  in  the 
business  of  life,  your  conversation  so  well  becomes  your 
name  and  faith,  drawing  upon  you  even  the  commen 
dation  of  your  Pagan  foes,  you  no  sooner  assemble  to 
gether,  as  now,  than  division  and  quarrel  ensue,  in  such 
measure,  as  among  our  Heathen  opponents  is  never 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  7fc 

seen  ?  Why  is  it,  Christians,  that  when  you  are  so  rea 
dy  to  die  for  Christ,  you  will  not  live  at  peace  for  him  ? 
Honor  you  not  him  more  by  showing  that  you  are  of 
his  spirit,  that  for  his  name's  sake  you  are  willing-  to 
bear  patiently  whatever  reproach  may  be  laid  upon  you, 
than  you  do  even  by  suffering  and  dying  for  him  ? 
The  questions  you  have  here  agitated  are  not  for  this 
hour  and  place.  What  now  does  it  signify  whether 
one  be  a  follower  of  Paul,  of  Origen,  of  Sabellius,  or 
Novatian,  when  we  are  each  and  all  so  shortly  to  be 
called  upon  to  confess  our  allegiance  to  neither  of  these 
— but  to  a  greater,  even  Jesus,  the  master  and  head  of 
us  all  !  And  what  has  our  preference  for  some  of  the 
doctrines  of  either  of  these  to  do  with  our  higher  love 
of  Christ  and  his  truth  ?  By  such  preference  is  our  su 
perior  and  supreme  regard  for  Jesus  and  his  word  vitia 
ted  or  invalidated  ?  Nay,  what  is  it  we  then  do  when 
we  embrace  the  peculiar  doctrine  of  some  great  or  good 
man,  who  has  gone  before,  but  embrace  that  which  in  a 
peculiar  sense  we  regard  as  the  doctrine  of  Christ  ? 
We  receive  the  peculiar  doctrine  of  Paul,  or  Justin,  or 
Origen,  not  because  it  is  theirs,  but  because  we  think 
they  have  shown  it  to  be  eminently  the  doctrine  of 
Christ.  In  binding  upon  us  then  the  dogmas  of  any 
teacher,  we  ought  not  to  be  treated  other  than  as  those 
who,  in  doing  so,  are  seeking  to  do  the  highest  honor, 
not  to  such  teacher,  but  to  Christ.  I  am  charged  as  a 
disciple  of  the  bishop  of  Antioch,  and  the  honored  Fe 
lix  as  a  disciple  of  Plato.  If  I  honor  Paul  of  Samosata, 
Christians,  for  any  of  his  truth,  it  is  because  I  deem 
him  to  have  discerned  clearly  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus. 
My  faith  is  not  in  him,  but  in  Jesus.  And  if  Felix 


SO  AURELIAN. 

honor  Plato  or  Plotinus,  it  is  but  because  in  them  he  be 
holds  some  clearer  unfolding  —  clearer  than  elsewhere 
—  of  the  truth  in  Christ.  Are  not  we  then,  and  all 
who  do  the  same  thing,  to  be  esteemed  as  those  who 
honor  Christ  ?  not  deny  nor  forsake  him.  And  as  we 
all  hold  in  especial  reverence  some  one  or  another  of  a 
former  age,  through  whom  as  a  second  master  we  re 
ceive  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel,  ought  we  not  all  to 
love  and  honor  one  another,  seeing  that  in  the  same 
way  we  all  love  and  honor  Christ  ?  Let  love,  Chris 
tians,  mutual  honor  and  love,  be  the  badge  of  our  disci- 
pleship,  as  it  was  in  the  first  age  of  the  church.  Soon, 
very  soon,  will  you  be  called  to  bear  testimony  to  the 
cause  you  have  espoused,  and  perhaps  seal  it  with  your 
Mood.  Be  not  less  ready  to  show  your  love  to  those  a- 
round  you  by  the  promptness  with  which  you  lend  you* 
sympathy,  or  counsel,  or  aid,  as  this  new  flood  of  adver 
sity  flows  in  upon  them.  But  why  do  I  exhort  you  ? 
The  thousand  acts  of  kindness,  of  charity,  of  brotherly 
love,  which  flow  outwards  from  you  in  a  perpetual 
stream  toward  Heathen  not  less  than  Christian,  and 
have  drawn  upon  you  the  admiration  even  of  the  Pagan 
world,  is  sufficient  assurance  that  your  hearts  will  not 
be  cold  when  the  necessities  of  this  heavier  time  shall 
lay  upon  you  their  claims.  It  is  only  in  the  public  as 
sembly,  and  in  the  ardor  of  debate,  that  love  seerns  cold 
and  dead.  Forget  then,  now  and  tomorrow,  that  you 
are  followers  of  any  other  than  Christ.  Forget  that 
you  call  yourselves  after  one  teacher  or  another,  and  re 
member  only  that  you  are  brethren,  members  of  one 
family,  of  the  same  household  of  faith,  owning  one 
master,  worshipping  one  and  the  same  God  and  Father 


AURELIAN.  SI 

of  us  all.  And  now,  Christians,  if  you  would  rathei 
that  Felix  should  defend  you  before  Aurelian,  I  would 
also.  There  is  none  among  us  who  loves  Christ  more 
or  better  than  he,  or  would  more  readily  lay  down  his 
Hfe  for  his  sake.' 

Felix  however  joined  with  all  the  others — for  all  now, 
after  these  few  words  of  Probus,  seemed  of  one  opinion 
—  in  desiring  that  Probus  should  appear  for  the  Chris 
tians  before  the  Emperor  ;  which  he  then  consented  to 
do.  Harmony  was  once  more  restored.  The  differ 
ences  of  opinion,  which  separated  them,  seemed  to  be 
forgotten,  and  they  mingled  as  friends  and  fellow-labor 
ers  in  the  great  cause  of  truth.  They  who  had  been 
harshest  in  the  debate — which  was  at  much  greater 
length,  and  conducted  with  much  more  vehemence  than 
as  I  have  described  it  —  were  among  the  most  forward 
to  meet  with  urbanity  those  who  were  in  faith  the  most 
distantly  removed  from  them.  A  long  and  friendly  in 
terview  then  took  place,  in  which  each  communed  with 
each,  and  by  words  of  faith  or  affection  helped  to  supply 
the  strength  which  all  needed  for  the  approaching  con 
flict.  One  saw  no  longer  and  heard  no  longer  the  en 
thusiastic  disputant  more  bent  upon  victory  than  truth, 
and  heedless  of  the  wounds  he  gave  to  the  heart,  provi 
ded  he  convinced  the  head  or  silenced  the  tongue,  but 
instead,  those  who  now  appeared  no  other  than  a  com 
pany  of  neighbors  and  friends  engaged  in  the  promotion 
of  some  common  object  of  overwhelming  interest. 

When  in  this  manner  and  for  a  considerable  space  of 
time  a  fit  offering  had  been  laid  upon  the  altar  of  love, 
the  whole  assembly  again  joined  together  in  acts  of 
prayer,  and  again  lifted  up  their  voices  in  song*  of 


92  A  URELI  AN  . 

praise.  This  duty  being  performed,  we  separated  and 
sought  the  streets.  The  storm  which  had  begun  in  vio 
lence,  had  increased,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  beset 
by  darkness,  wind,  and  rain,  I  succeeded  without  injury 
in  finding  my  way  to  the  Coelian. 

Julia  was  waiting  for  me  with  anxious  impatience. 

After  relating  to  her  the  events  of  the  evening,  she 
said, 

'  How  strange,  Lucius,  the  conduct  of  such  men  at 
such  a  time  !  How  could  Christians,  with  the  Chris 
tian's  faith  in  their  hearts,  so  lose  the  possession  of 
themselves  —  and  so  violate  all  that  they  profess  as  fol 
lowers  of  Jesus  !  I  confess,  if  this  be  the  manner  in 
which  Christianity  is  intended  to  operate  upon  the  char 
acter,  I  am  as  yet  wholly  ignorant  of  it,  and  desire  ever 
to  remain  so.  But  it  is  not  possible  that  they  are  right. 
Nay,  they  seem  in  some  sort  to  have  acknowledged 
themselves  to  have  been  in  the  wrong  by  the  last  acts 
of  the  meeting.  This  brings  to  my  mind  what  Paul 
has  often  told  me  of  the  Christians  of  the  same  kind,  at 
which  I  was  then  amazed,  but  had  forgotten.  I  do  not 
comprehend  it.  I  have  read  and  studied  the  character 
and  the  teachings  of  Jesus,  and  it  seems  to  me  I  have 
arrived  at  some  true  understanding — for  surely  there 
is  little  difficulty  in  doing  so  —  of  what  he  himself  was, 
and  of  what  he  wished  his  followers  to  be.  Would  he 
have  recognized  his  likeness  in  those  of  whom  you 
have  now  told  me  ?' 

*  Yet,'  I  replied,  '  there  was  more  of  it  there  in  those 
very  persons  than  at  first  we  might  be  inclined  to  think; 
and  in  the  great  multitude  of  those  who  were  present,  it 
may  have  been  all  there,  and  was  in  most,  I  cannot 


AURELIAN.  83 

doubt.  We  ought  not  to  judge  of  this  community  by 
the  leaders  "of  the  several  divisions  which  compose  it. 
They  are  by  no  means  just  specimens,  from  which  tc 
infer  the  character  of  all.  They  are  but  too  often  rest 
less,  ambitious,  selfish  men  ;  seeking  their  own  aggran 
dizement  and  their  party's,  rather  than  the  glory  of 
Christ  and  his  truth.  I  can  conceive  of  a  reception  of 
Christian  precept  and  of  the  Christian  spirit  being  but 
little  more  perfect  and  complete,  than  I  have  found  it  a- 
mong  the  humbler  sort  of  the  Christians  of  Rome.  A- 
mong  them  there  is  to  be  seen  nothing  of  the  temper  of 
violence  and  bigotry  that  was  visible  this  evening  in  the 
language  of  so  many.  They,  for  the  most  part,  place 
the  religion  of  Jesus  in  holy  living,  in  love  of  one  ano 
ther,  and  patient  waiting  for  the  kingdom  of  God.  And 
their  lives  are  seen  to  accord  with  these  great  principles 
of  action.  Even  for  their  leaders,  who  are  in  so  many 
points  so  different  from  them,  this  may  be  said  in  expla 
nation  and  excuse  —  that  from  studying  the  record  more 
than  the  common  people,  they  come  to  consider  more 
narrowly  in  what  the  religion  of  Jesus  consists,  and  ar 
riving,  after  much  labor,  at  what  they  believe  in  their 
hearts  to  be  the  precise  truth  —  truth  the  most  vital  of 
any  to  the  power  and  success  of  the  gospel  —  this  en 
grosses  all  their  affections,  and  prompts  all  their  labor 
and  zeal.  .In  the  dissemination  of  this  do  they  alone 
behold  the  dissemination  of  Christianity  itself — this 
being  denied  or  rejected,  the  gospel  itself  is.  With 
such  notions  as  fundamental  principles  of  action,  it  is 
easy  to  see  with  what  sincere  and  virtuous  indignation 
they  would  be  filled  toward  such  as  should  set  at  nought 
and  oppose  that,  which  they  cherish  as  the  very  centra 


84  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N. 

glory  and  peculiarity  of  Christianity.  These  things  be 
ing  so,  I  can  pity  and  forgive  a  great  deal  of  what  ap 
pears  to  be,  and  is,  so  opposite  to  the  true  Christian  tem 
per,  on  account  of  its  origin  and  cause.  Especially  as 
these  very  persons,  who  are  so  impetuous,  and  truculent 
almost,  as  partizans  and  advocates,  are,  as  private  Chris 
tians,  examples  perhaps  of  extraordinary  virtue.  We 
certainly  know  this  to  be  the  case  with  Macer.  An 
apostle  was  never  more  conscientious  nor  more  pure. 
Yet  would  he,  had  he  power  equal  to  his  will,  drive 
from  the  church  all  who  bowed  not  the  knee  to  his  idol 
Novatian.' 

'  But  how,'  asked  Julia,  '  would  that  agree  with  the 
offence  he  justly  took  at  those  who  quareled  with  Pro- 
bus  and  Felix  on  account  of  their  doctrine  ?' 

1  There  certainly  would  be  in  such  conduct  no  agree 
ment  nor  consistency.  It  only  shows  how  easy  it  is  to 
see  a  fault  in  another,  to  which  we  are  stone-blind  in 
ourselves.  In  the  faith  or  errors  of  Probus  and  Felix 
he  thought  there  was  nothing  that  should  injure  their 
Christian  name,  or  unfit  them  for  any  office.  Yet  in 
the  same  breath  he  condemned  as  almost  the  worst  ene 
mies  of  Christ  such  as  refused  honor  and  adherence  to 
the  severe  and  inhuman  code  of  his  master  Novatian.' 

'  But  how  far  removed,  Lucius,  is  all  this  from  the 
spirit  of  the  religion  of  Jesus  !  Allowing  all  the  force 
of  the  apologies  you  may  offer,  is  it  not  a  singular  state 
for  the  minds  and  tempers  of  those  to  have  arrived  at, 
who  profess  before  the  world  to  have  formed  themselves 
after  the  doctrine,  and,  what  is  more,  after  the  character 
of  Christ  ?  I  cannot  understand  the  process  1.  y  which 
it  has  been  done,  nor  how  it  is  that,  without  bringing 


AU  RE  LI  AN.  86 

apon  themselves  public  shame  and  reproach,  such  men 
can  stand  forth  and  proclaim  themselves  not  only  Chris 
tians,  but  Christian  leaders  and  ministers.' 

'  I  can  understand  it,  I  confess,  quite  as  little.  But  I 
cannot  doubt  that  as  Christianity  outgrows  its  infancy, 
especially  when  the  great  body  of  those  who  profess  it 
shall  have  been  formed  by  it  from  their  youth,  and  shall 
not  be  composed,  as  now,  of  those  who  have  been 
brought  over  from  the  opposite  and  uncongenial  regions 
of  Paganism,  with  much  of  their  former  character  still 
adhering  to  them,  Christians  will  then  be  what  they 
ought  to  be  who  make  the  life  and  character  of  Jesns 
their  standard.  Nothing  is  learned  so  slowly  by  man 
kind  as  those  lessons  which  enforce  mutual  love  and  re 
spect,  in  which  the  gospels  so  abound.  We  must  allow 
not  only  years,  but  hundreds  of  years,  for  these  lessons 
to  be  imprinted  upon  the  general  heart  of  men,  and  to 
be  seer  in  all  their  character  and  intercourse.  But 
when  a  few  hundred  years  shall  have  elapsed,  and  that 
is  a  long  allowance  for  this  education  to  be  perfected  in, 
I  can  conceive  that  the  times  of  the  primitive  peace  and 
love  shall  be  more  than  restored,  and  that  such  re 
proaches  as  to-night  were  heard  lavished  upon  one  and 
another  will  be  deemed  as  little  compatible  with  a  Chris 
tian  profession  as  would  be  violence  and  war.  All  vio 
lence  and  wrong  must  cease,  as  this  religion  is  received, 
and  the  ancient  superstitions  and  idolatries  die  out.' 

'  What  a  privilege,  to  be  born  and  live,'  said  Julia,  ( in 

those   fast  approaching  years,  when  Christianity  shall 

alone  be  received  as  ihe  religion  of  this  large  empire  , 

when  Paganism  shall  have  become  extinct  in  Rome 

8         VOL.  u. 


86  AURELlAN 

war  and  slavery  shall  cease,  and  all  our  people  shall  be 
actuated  by  the  same  great  principles  of  faith  and  virtue 
that  governed  both  Christ  and  his  apostles  !  A  few  cen 
turies  will  witness  more  and  better  than  we  now  dream 
of.' 

So  we  pleased  ourselves  with  visions  of  future  peace 
and  happiness,  which  Christianity  was  to  convert  to  re 
ality.  To  me  they  are  no  longer  mere  visions,  but  as 
much  realities  to  be  experienced,  as  the  future  towering 
oak  is,  when  I  look  upon  an  acorn  planted,  or  as  the  fu 
ture  man  is,  when  I  look  upon  a  little  child.  If  Chris 
tianity  grows  at  all,  it  must  grow  in  such  direction.  If 
it  do  not,  it  will  not  be  Christianity  that  grows,  but 
something  else  that  shall  have  assumed  its  name  and 
usurped  its  place.  The  extension  of  Christianity  is  the 
extension  and  multiplication  as  it  were  of  that  which 
constituted  Christ  himself — it  is  the  conversion  of  men 
into  his  image  —  or  else  it  is  nothing.  Then,  when 
this  shall  be  done,  what  a  paradise  of  peace,  and  holi 
ness,  and  love,  will  not  the  earth  be !  Surely,  to  be 
used  as  an  instrument  in  accomplishing  such  result,  one 
may  well  regard  as  an  honor  and  privilege,  and  be  rea 
dy  to  bear  and  suffer  much,  if  need  be,  in  fulfilling  the 
great  office. 

I  hope  I  shall  not  have  wearied  you  by  all  this  ex 
actness.  I  strictly  conform  to  your  injunctions,  so  that 
you  can  complain  only  of  yourself. 

We  often  wish  that  the  time  would  allow  us  to  escape 
to  you,  that  we  might  witness  your  labors  and  share 
them  in  the  rebuilding  and  leembelishing  of  the  city. 
Rome  will  never  be  a  home  to  Julia.  Her  affections 


AURELIAN,  87 

are  all  in  Syria.     I  can  even  better  conceive  of  Zenobia 
oecoming  a  Roman  than  Julia.     Farewell. 


FINDING  among  the  papers  of  Piso  no  letter  giving 
any  account  of  what  took  place  immediately  after  the 
meeting  of  the  Christians,  which,  in  his  last  letter,  he 
has  so  minutely  described,  I  shall  here  supply,  as  I  may, 
the  deficiency  ;  and  I  can  do  it  at  least  with  fidelity, 
since  I  was  present  at  the  scenes  of  which  I  shall  speak. 

No  one  took  a  more  lively  interest  in  the  condition 
and  affairs  of  the  Christians  than  Zenobia  ;  and  it  is  with 
sorrow. that  I  find  among  the  records  of  Piso  no  mention 
made  of  conversations  had  at  Tibur  while  these  events 
were  transpiring,  at  which  were  present  himself,  and  the 
princess  Julia,  the  Queen,  and,  more  than  once,  Aurelian 
and  Livia.  While  I  cannot  doubt  that  such  record  was 
made,  I  have  in  vain  searched  for  it  among  those  docu 
ments  which  he  intrusted  to  me. 

It  was  by  command  of  the  Queen  that  on  the  day  fol 
lowing  that  on  which  the  Christians  held  their  assembly 
at  the  baths,  I  went  to  Rome  for  the  very  purpose  to 
learn  whatever  I  could,  both  at  the  Gardens  and  abroad 
in  the  city,  concerning  the  condition  and  probable  fate  of 
that  people,  she  desiring  more  precise  information  than 
could  be  gathered  from  any  of  the  usual  sources  of  in 
telligence. 

It  was  apparent  to  me  as  I  entered  the  city,  and  pene 
trated  to  its  more  crowded  parts,  that  somewhat  unusual 


83  AURELIAN. 

had  taken  place,  or  was  about  to  happen.  There  were 
more  than  the  common  appearances  of  excitement  among 
those  whom  I  saw  conversing  and  gesticulating  at  the 
corners  of  streets  or  the  doors  of  the  public  baths.  This 
idle  and  corrupt  population  seemed  to  have  less  than  on 
other  occasions  to  employ  their  hands,  and  so  gave  their 
time  and  their  conversation  to  one  another,  laying  no 
restraint  upon  the  quantity  of  either.  It  is  an  indisput 
able  fact  that  Rome  exists  to  this  day,  for  any  one  who 
will  come  into  Italy  may  see  it  for  himself,  and  he  can 
not  reject  the  testimony  of  his  eyes  and  ears.  But  how 
it  exists  from  year  to  year,  or  from  day  to  day,  under 
such  institutions,  it  would  puzzle  the  wisest  philosopher, 
I  believe,  to  tell.  Me,  who  am  no  philosopher,  it  puz 
zles  as  often  as  I  reflect  upon  it.  I  cannot  learn  the 
causes  that  hold  together  in  such  apparent  order  and 
contentment  so  idle  and  so  corrupt  a  people.  I  have 
supposed  it  must  be  these,  but  they  seem  not  sufficient  : 
the- Praetorian  camp  without  the  walls,  and  the  guard,  in 
league  with  them,  within,  and  the  largesses  and  games 
proceeding  from  the  bounty  of  the  Emperor.  These  last, 
though  they  are  the  real  sources  of  their  corruption  and 
must  end  in  the  very  destruction  of  the  city  and  people, 
yet,  at  present,  operate  to  keep  them  quiet  and  in  order. 
So  long  as  these  bounties  are  dispensed,  so  long,  such 
is  our  innate  love  of  idleness  and  pleasure,  will  the  mass 
think  it  foolish  to  agitate  any  questions  of  right  or  re 
ligion,  or  any  other,  by  which  they  might  be  forfeited. 
Were  these  suddenly  suspended,  all  the  powei  of  the  Prae 
torian  cohorts,  I  suppose,  could  not  keep  peace  in  Rome. 
They  were  now  I  found  occupied  by  the  affairs  of  the 
Christians,  and  waiting  impatiently  for  the  orders  which 


A  U  B  E  L  I  A  N.  89 

should  next  issue  from  the  imperial  will.  The  edicts 
published  two  days  before  gave  them  no  employment, 
nor  promised  much.  They  merely  laid  restraints  upon 
the  Christians,  but  gave  no  liberty  of  assault  and  injury 
to  the  Roman. 

'  That  does  not  satisfy  the  people,'  said  one  to  me,  at 
the  door  of  a  shop,  of  whom  I  had  made  some  inquiry 
on  the  subject.  4  More  was  -looked  for  from  the  Empe 
ror,  for  it  is  well  known  that  he  intends  the  extremes! 
measures,  and  most  are  of  opinion  that,  before  the  day 
is  out,  new  edicts  will  be  issued.  Why  he  took  the 
course  he  did  of  so  uncommon  moderation  'tis  hard  to 
say.  All  the  effect  of  it  is  to  give  the  Christians  oppor 
tunity  to  escape  and  hide  themselves,  so  that  by  the 
time  the  severer  orders  against  them  are  published,  it 
will  be  impossible  to  carry  them  into  execution.' 

'  Perhaps,'  I  said,  '  it  was  after  all  his  intention  to  give 
them  a  distant  warning,  that  some  might,  if  they  saw 
fit  to  do  so,  escape.' 

1  I  do  not  believe  that,'  he  replied  ;  '  it  will  rather,  I 
am  of  the  opinion,  be  found  to  have  proceeded  from  the 
advice  of  Pronto  and  Varus,  to  give  to  the  proceedings 
a  greater  appearance  of  moderation  ;  which  shows  into 
the  hands  of  what  owls  the  Emperor  has  suffered  himself 
to  fall.  Nobody  ever  expected  moderation  in  Aurelian, 
nor  do  any  but  a  few  as  bad  as  themselves  think  these 
wretches  deserve  it.  The  only  consequence  of  the 
present  measures  will  be  to  increase  their  swelling  inso 
lence  and  pride,  thinking  that  Aurelian  threatens  but 
dares  not  execute.  Before  another  day,  I  trust,  new 
8*  VOL.  u. 


90  AURELIAN. 

edicts  will  show  that  the  Emperor  is  himself.  The  life 
of  Rome  hangs  upon  the  death  of  these.' 

Saying  which,  with  a  savage  scowl,  which  showed 
how  gladly  he  would  turn  executioner  or  tormentor  in 
such  service,  he  turned  and  crossed  the  street. 

I  then  sought  the  palace  of  Piso.  I  was  received  in 
the  library,  where  I  found  the  lady  Julia  and  Piso. 

They  greeted  me  as  they  ever  did,  rather  as  if  I  were 
a  brother  than  but  the  servant  of  Zenobia.  But  what 
ever  belongs  to  her,  were  it  but  so  much  as  a  slave  of 
the  lowest  office,  would  they  treat  with  affection  at 
least,  if  not  with  reverence.  After  answering  their  in 
quiries  after  the  welfare  of  the  Queen  and  Faustula,  I 
made  mine  concerning  the  condition  of  the  city  and  the 
affairs  of  the  Christians,  saying,  '  that  Zenobia  was  anx 
ious  to  learn  what  ground  there  was,  or  whether  any,  to 
feel  apprehension  for  the  safety  of  that  people  ?' —  Piso 
said,  '  that  now  he  did  not  doubt  there  was  great  ground 
for  serious  apprehension.  It  was  believed  by  those  who 
possessed  the  best  means  of  intelligence,  that  new  edicts 
of  a  much  severer  character  would  be  issued  before 
another  day.  But  that  Zenobia  need  be  under  no  con 
cern  either  as  to  himself  or  Julia,  since  the  Emperor  in 
conversation  with  him  as  much  as  assured  him  that, 
whatever  might  befal  others,  no  harm  should  come  to 
them.' 

He  then  gave  me  an  account  of  what  the  Christians 
had  done  in  their  assembly,  agreeing  with  what  is  now 
to  be  found  in  the  preceding  letter. 

I  then  asked  whether  he  thought  that  the  Christian 
Macer  would  keep  to  the  declaration  he  had  made,  that 
he  would  to-day,  the  edicts  notwithstanding,  preach  in 


AUR  ELIAN.  91 

the  streets  of  Rome  !  He  replied,  that  he  did  not  doubt 
that  he  would,  and  that  if  I  wished  to  know  what  some 
of  the  Christians  were,  and  what  the  present  temper  of 
the  people  was  towards  them,  I  should  do  well  to  seek 
him  and  hear  him.' 

'  Stand  by  him,  good  Nicomachus,'  said  Julia,  'if  at 
any  moment  you  find  that  you  can  be  of  service  to  him. 
I  have  often  heretofore  blamed  him,  but  since  this  mur 
der  of  Aurelia,  and  the  horrors  of  the  dedication,  I  hold 
him  warranted,  and  more  than  that,  in  any  means  he 
may  use,  to  rouse  this  guilty  people.  Perhaps  it  is  on-, 
ly  by  the  use  of  such  remedies  as  he  employs,  that  the 
heart  of  Rome  —  hardened  by  ages  of  sin  —  can  be 
made  to  feel.-  To  the  milder  treatment  of  Probus,  and 
others  like  him,  it  seems  for  the  most  part  utterly  insen 
sible  and  dead.  At  least  his  sincerity,  his  zeal,  and  his 
courage,  are  worthy  of  all  admiration.' 

I  assured  her  that  I  would  befriend  him  if  I  could  do 
so  with  any  prospect  of  advantage,  but  it  was  little  that 
one  could  do  against  the  fury  of  a  Roman  mob.  I  then 
asked  Piso  if  he  would  not  accompany  me  ;  but  he  re 
plied,  that  he  had  already  heard  Macer,  and  was,  be 
sides,  necessarily  detained  at  home  by  other  cares. 

As  there  was  no  conjecturing  in  what  part  of  the  city 
this  Christian  preacher  would  harangue  the  people,  and 
neither  the  Princess  nor  Piso  could  impart  any  certain 
information,  I  gave  little  more  thought  to  it,  but,  as  I 
left  the  palace  on  the  Crelian,  determined  to  seek  the 
gardens  of  Sallust,  where,  if  I  should  not  see  Aurelian, 
I  might  at  least  pass  the  earlier  hours  of  the  day  in  an 
agreeable  retreat.  I  took  the  street  that  leads  from  the 
Coeliun  to  the  Capitol  Hill,  as  affording  a  pleasanter 


92  AURELIAN. 

walk  —  if  longer.  On  the  way  there,  I  observed  well 
the  signs  which  were  given  in  the  manner  and  conver 
sation  of  those  whom  I  met,  or  walked  with,  of  the 
events  which  were  near  at  hand.  There  is  no  better 
index  of  what  a  despotic  ruler,  and  yet  at  the  same  time 
a  '  people's'  despot,  will  do,  than  the  present  will  of  the 
people.  It  was  most  apparent  to  me  that  they 
were  impatient  for  some  quick  and  vigorous  action,  no 
matter  how  violent,  against  the  Christians.  Language 
the  most  ferocious  met  my  ear.  The  moderation  and 
tardiness  of  the  Emperor — of  him  who  had  in  every 
thing  else  been  rioted  for  the  rapidity  of  his  movements 
—  were  frequent  subjects  of  complaint. 

1  It  is  most  strange,'  they  said,  '  that  Aurelian  should 
hesitate  in  this  matter,  in  truth  as  if  he  were  afraid  to 
move.  Were  it  not  for  Pronto,  it  is  thought  that  noth 
ing  would  be  done  after  all.  But  this  we  may  feel  sure 
of,  that  if  the  Emperor  once  fairly  begins  the  work  of 
extermination,  he  is  not  the  man  to  stop  half  way.  And 
there  is  not  a  friend  of  the  ancient  institutions  of  relig 
ion,  but  who  says  that  their  very  existence  depends  up 
on —  not  the  partial  obstruction  of  this  sect  —  but  upon 
its  actual  and  total  extermination.  Who  does  not  know 
that  measures  of  opposition  and  resistance,  which  go 
but  part  way  and  then  stop,  through  a  certain  unwil 
lingness  as  it  were  to  proceed  to  extremes,  do  but  in 
crease  the  evil  they  aim  to  suppress.  Weeds  that  are 
but  mown,  come  up  afterwards  only  the  more  vigor 
ously.  Their  very  roots  must  be  torn  up  and  then  burn 
ed.'  Such  language  was  heard  on  all  sides,  uttered 
with  utmost  violence  —  of  voice  and  gesture. 

I  paused,  among  other  curious  and  busy  idlers,  at  the 


AURELIAN.  93 

door  of  a  smith's  shop,  which,  as  I  passed  slowly  by, 
presented  a  striking  view  of  a  vast  and  almost  bound 
less  interior,  blazing  with  innumerable  fires,  where  la 
borers  half  naked  —  and  seeming  as  if  fire  themselves, 
from  the  reflection  from  their  steaming  bodies  of  the  red 
glare  of  the  furnaces  —  stood  in  groups,  some  drawing 
forth  the  bars  of  heated  metal  and  holding  them,  while 
others  wielding  their  cyclopean  hammers  made  the 
anvils  and  the  vast  interior  ring  with  the  blows  they 
gave.  All  around  the  outside  of  the  shop  and  in  sepa 
rate  places  within  stood  the  implements  and  machines  of 
various  kinds  which  were  either  made,  or  \vere  in  the 
process  of  being  put  together.  Those  whom  I  joined 
were  just  within  the  principal  entrance  looking  upon  a 
fabric  of  iron  consisting  of  a  complicated  array  of  wheels 
and  pulleys,  to  which  the  workmen  were  just  in  the  act 
of  adding  the  last  pieces.  The  master  of  the  place  now 
approaching  and  standing  with  us,  while  he  gave  di 
verse  orders  to  the  men,  I  said  to  him, 

'  What  new  device  may  this  be  ?  The  times  labor 
with  new  contrivances  by  which  to  assist  the  laborer  in 
his  art,  and  cause  iron  to  do  what  the  arm  has  been  ac 
customed  to  perform.  But  after  observing  this  with 
care  I  can  make  nothing  of  it.  It  seems  not  designed 
to  aid  any  manufacture  of  which  I  have  any  knowledge.' 

The  master  looked  at  me  with  a  slighting  expression 
of  countenance  as  much  as  to  say  '  you  are  a  wise  one  ! 
You  must  have  just  emerged  from  the  mountains  of 
Helvetia,  or  the  forests  of  the  Danube.'  But  he  did  not 
content  himself  with  looks. 

'  This,  sir  V  said  he.  '  This,  if  you  would  know  it,  is  a 
rack  —  a  common  instrument  of  torture  —  used  in  all  the 


94  A  U  R  E  L  1  A  N  . 

prisons  of  the  empire,  the  use  of  which  is  to  extract  truth 
from  one  who  is  unwilling  to  speak  except  compelled  ; 
or,  sometimes,  when  death  is  thought  too  slight  a  pun 
ishment,  to  give  it  an  edge  with,  just  as  salt  and  pepper 
are  thrown  into  a  fresh  wound.  Some  crimes,  you  must 
know,  were  too  softly  dealt  with,  were  a  sharp  axe  the 
only  instrument  employed.  Caesar  !  just  bring  some 
wires  of  a  good  thickness,  and  we  will  try  this.  Now 
shall  you  see  precisely  how  it  would  fare  with  your  own 
body,  were  you  on  this  iron  frame  and  Varus  standing 
where  I  am.  There, — Caesar  having  in  a  few  moments 
brought  the  wires  —  the  body  you  perceive  is  confined 
in  this  manner.  —  You  observe  there  can  be  no  es 
cape  and  no  motion.  Now  at  the  word  of  the  judge, 
this  crank  is  turned.  Do  you  see  the  effect  upon  the 
wire  ?  Imagine  it  your  body  and  you  will  have  a  lively 
idea  of  the  instrument.  Then  at  another  wink  or  word 
from  Varus,  these  are  turned,  and  you  see  that  another 
part  of  the  body,  the  legs  or  arms  as  it  may  be,  are  sub 
jected  to  the  same  force  as  this  wire,  which  as  the  fellow 
keeps  turning  you  see  —  strains,  and  straightens,  and 
strains,  till  —  crack  !  —  there  !  — that  is  what  we  call  a 
rack.  A  most  ingenious  contrivance  and  of  great  use. 
This  is  going  up  within  the  hour  to  the  hall  of  the  Prefect.' 

'  It  seems,'  I  remarked,  l  well  contrived  indeed  for  its 
object.  And  what,'  I  asked,  '  are  these  which  stand 
here  ?  Are  they  for  the  same  or  a  similar  purpose  ?' 

'Yes  —  these,  sir,  are  different  and  yet  the  same. 
They  are  all  for  purposes  of  torture,  but  they  vary  infi 
nitely  in  the  ingenuity  with  which  they  severally  inflict 
pain  and  death.  That  is  esteemed  in  Rome  the  most 
perfect  instrument  which,  while  it  inflicts  the  most  ex- 


A  T7  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  95 

quisite  tornjents,  shall  at  the  same  time  not  early,  assail 
that  which  is  a  vital  part,  but,  you  observe,  prolong  life 
to  the  utmost.  Some,  of  an  old-fashioned  structure, 
with  a  clumsy  and  bungling  machinery — here  are  some 
sent  to  me  as  useless  —  long  before  the  truth  could  be 
extracted,  or  much  more  pain  inflicted  than  would  ac 
company  beheading,  destroyed  the  life  of  the  victim. 
Those  which  I  build  —  and  I  build  for  the  State  —  are 
not  to  be  complained  of  in  that  way.  Varus  is  curious 
enough,  I  can  assure  you,  in  such  things.  All  these 
that  you  see  here,  of  whatever  form  or  make,  are  for 
him  and  the  hall  of  justice.  They  have  been  all  refitted 
and  repaired — or  else  th'ey  are  new.' 

1  How  is  it  possible,'  I  asked,  '  so  many  could  be  re 
quired  in  one  place  ?' 

'  Surely,'  said  the  master,  '  you  must  just  have  dropt 
down  in  Rome  from  Britain,  or  Scythia,  or  the  moon ! 
Didst  ever  hear  of  a  people  called  Galilean  or  Christian  * 
Perhaps  the  name  is  new  to  you.' 

*  No,  I  have   heard  it.' 

'  Well,  these  are  for  them.  As  you  seem  new  in  the 
city  and  to  our  Roman  ways,  walk  a  little  farther  in  and 
1  will  show  you  others,  which  are  for  the  men  and  the 
boys  at  such  time  as  the  slaughter  of  this  people  shall 
become  general.  For  you  must  know,  —  although  it  is 
not  got  widely  abroad  yet —  that  by  and  by  the  whole 
city  is  to  be  let  loose  upon  them.  That  is  the  private 
plan  of  the  Emperor.  Every  good  citizen,  it  will  be  ex 
pected,  will  do  his  share  in  the  work,  till  Rome  shall  be 
purged.  Aurelian  does  nothing  by  halves.  It  is  in 
view  of  such  a  state  of  things  that  I  have  prepared  an 
immense  armory  —  if  I  may  call  it  so —  of  every  sort  ol 


96  AURELIAN. 

cheap  iron  tool  —  I  have  the  more  costly  also  —  to  meet 
the  great  demand  that  will  be  made.  Here  they  ure  ! 
commend  now  my  diligence,  my  patriotism,  and  my 
foresight  !  Some  of  my  craft  will  not  engage  in  this 
work  :  but  it  exactly  jumps  with  my  humor.  Any  that 
you  shall  choose  of  these,  sir,  you  shall  have  cheap,  and 
they  shall  be  sent  to  your  lodgings.' 

I  expressed  my  gratitude,  but  declined  the  offer. 

After  wandering  a  little  longer  around  the  huge  work 
shop,  I  took  my  leave  of  its  humane  master,  still  en 
treating  me  to  purchase,  and,  as  I  entered  again  the 
street,  turned  towards  the  capitol.  My  limbs  were  sym 
pathising  with  those  wires  throughout  the  rest  of  the  day. 

I  had  forgotten  Macer,  and  almost  my  object  in  coming 
abroad,  and  was  revolving  various  subjects  in  rny  mind, 
my  body  only  being  conscious  of  the  shocks  which  now 
and  then  I  received  from  persons  meeting  or  passing 
me,  when  I  became  conscious. of  a  sudden  rush  along 
the  street  in  the  direction  of  the  capitol,  which  was  now 
but  a  furlong  from  where  I  was.  I  was  at  once  awake. 
The  people  began  to  run,  and  I  ran  with  them  by  in 
stinct.  At  length  it  came  into  my  mind  to  ask  wrhy  we 
were  running  ?  One  near  rne  replied, 

'  0,  it's  only  Macer  the  Christian,  who,  'tis  said,  in 
spite  of  the  edict,  has  just  made  for  the  steps  of  the  cap* 
itol,  followed  by  a  large  crowd.' 

On  the  instant  I  outstripped  my  companion,  and  turn 
ing  quickly  the  corner,  where  the  street  in  which  I  was 
crossed  the  hill,  I  there  beheld  an  immense  multitude 
gathered  around  the  steps  of  the  capitol,  and  the  tall 
form  of  Macer  just  ascending  them.  Resolved  to  be 
near  him,  I  struggled  and  forced  my  way  into  the  mass 


ATJRELIAN.  97 

till  I  found  myself  so  far  advanced  that  I  could  both 
hear  and  be  heard  by  him,  if  I  should  find  occasion  to 
speak,  and  see  the  expression  of  his  countenance.  It 
was  to  me,  as  he  turned  round  toward  the  people,  the 
most  extraordinary  countenance  I  ever  beheld.  It  seem 
ed  as  if  once  it  had  been  fiercer  than  the  fiercest  beast 
of  the  forest,  while  through  that  was  now  to  be  discern 
ed  the  deep  traces  of  grief,  and  an  expression  which 
seemed  to  say,  "  I  and  the  world  have  parted  company. 
I  dwell  above."  His  two  lives  and  his  two  characters 
were  to  be  read  at  once  in  the  strong  and  deep-sunk 
lines  of  a  face  that  struck  the  beholder  at  once  with 
awe,  with  admiration,  and  compassion. 

The  crowd  was  restless  and  noisy  ;  heaving  to  and 
fro  like  the  tiery  mass  of  a  boiling  crater.  A  thousand 
exclamations  and  imprecations  filled  the  air.  I  thought 
it  doubtful  whether  the  rage  which  seemed  to  fill  a 
great  proportion  of  those  around  me  would  so  much  as 
permit  the  Christian  to  open  his  mouth.  It  seemed  ra 
ther  as  if  he  would  at  once  be  dragged  from  where  he 
stood  to  the  Prefect's  tribunal,  or  hurled  from  the  steps 
and  sacrificed  at  once  to  the  fury  of  the  populace.  But, 
as  the  cries  of  his  savage  enemies  multiplied,  the  voices 
of  another  multitude  were  lifted  up  in  his  behalf,  which 
were  so  numerous  and  loud,  that  they  had  the  effect  of 
patting  a  restraint  upon  the  others.  It  was  evident  that 
Macer  could  not  be  assailed  without  leading  to  a  gene 
ral  combat.  All  this  while  Macer  stood  unmoved,  and 
calm  as  the  columns  of  the  capitol  itself —  waiting  till 
the  debate  should  be  ended  and  the  question  decided  — 
a  question  of  life  or  death  to  him.  Upon  the  column 
9  VOL.  ii 


yo  AURELIAN. 

immediately  on  his  right  hand  hung,  emblazoned  with 
gold,  and  beautiful  with  all  the  art  of  the  chirographer, 
the  edict  of  Aurelian.  It  was  upon  parchment,  within 
a  brazen  frame. 

Soon  as  quiet  was  restored,  so  that  any  single  voice 
could  be  heard,  one  who  was  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  and 
near  the  preacher  cried  out  to  him, 

'  Well,  old  fellow,  begin  !  thy  time  is  short.' 

'Young  man,'  he  replied,  '  I  was  once  old  in  sin,  for 
which  God  forgive  me  !  —  now  I  am  old  in  the  love  of 
Christ,  for  which  God  be  thanked  !  — but  in  years  I  am 
but  forty.  As  for  time  !  —  I  think  only  of  eternity.' 

'  Make  haste,  Macer  !'  cried  another  voice  from  the 
crowd.  *  Varus  will  soon  be  here.' 

'  I  believe  you,'  replied  the  soldier  ;  '  but  I  am  ready 
for  him.  I  love  life  no  longer  than  I  can  enjoy  free 
speech.  If  I  may  not  now  and  here  speak  out  every 
thought  of  my  heart,  and  the  whole  truth  in  Christ,  then 
would  I  rather  die  ;  and  whether  I  die  in  my  own  bed, 
or  upon  the  iron  couch  of  Varus,  matters  little.  Ro 
mans  ! '  turning  now  and  addressing  the  crowd,  '  the 
Emperor  in  his  edict  tells  me  not  to  preach  to  you. 
Not  to  preach  Christ  in  Rome,  neither  within  a  church 
nor  in  the  streets.  Such  is  this  edict.  Shall  I  obey 
him  ?  When  Christ  says,  '  Go  forth  and  preach  the 
gospel  to  every  creature,'  shall  I  give  ear  to  a  Roman 
Emperor,  who  bids  me  hold  my  peace  ?  Not  so,  not  so, 
Romans.  I  love  God  too  well,  and  Christ  too  well,  and 
you  too  well,  to  heed  such  bidding.  I  love  Aurelian 
too,  I  have  served  long  under  him,  and  he  was  ever 
good  to  me.  He  was  a  good  as  well  as  great  general, 
and  I  loved  him.  I  love  him  now,  but  not  so  well  as 


AURELIAN.  9fc 

these  ;  not  so*  well  as  you.  And  if  I  obeyed  this  edict, 
it  would  show  that  I  loved  him  better  than  you,  and 
better  than  these,  which  would  be  false.  If  I  obeyed 
this  edict  I  should  never  speak  to  you  again  of  this  new 
religion,  as  you  call  it.  I  should  leave  you  all  to  perish 
in  your  sins,  without  any  of  that  knowledge,  or  faith,  or 
hope  in  Christ,  which  would  save  you  from  them,  and 
form  you  after  the  image  of  God,  and  after  death  carry 
you  up  to  dwell  with  him  and  with  just  men  forever  and 
ever.  I  should  then,  indeed,  show  that  I  hated  you, 
which  I  can  never  do.  I  love  you  and  Rome  I  cannot 
tell  how  much  — as  much  as  a  child  ever  loved  a  mo 
ther,  or  children  one  another.  And  therefore  it  is  that 
no  power  on  earth — nor  above  it,  nor  under  it  —  no 
power,  save  that  of  God,  shall  hinder  me  from  declaring 
to  you  the  doctrine  which  I  think  you  need,  nay,  with 
out  which  your  souls  will  perish  and  dwell  for  ever  and 
ever,  not  with  God,  but  in  fires  eternal  of  the  lowest 
hell.  For  what  can  your  gods  do  for  you  ?  what  are 
they  doing  ?  They  lift  you  not  up  to  themselves  — 
they  push  you  down  rather  to  those  fires.  Christ,  O 
Romans,  if  you  will  receive  him,  will  save  you  from 
them,  and  from  those  raging  fires  of  sorrow  and  re 
morse,  which  here  on  earth  do  constitute  a  hell  hot  as 
any  that  burns  below.  It  is  your  sins  which  kindle 
those  fires,  and  with  which  Christ  wages  war  —  not 
with  you.  It  is  your  sins  with  which  I  wage  war  here 
in  the  streets  of  Rome,  not  with  you.  Only  repent  of 
your  sins,  Romans,  and  believe  in  Christ  the  son  of  God. 
and  O  how  glorious  and  happy  were  then  this  great 
and  glorious  city.  I  have  told  you  before,  and  I  tell  you 
now,  your  vices  are  undermining  the  "foundations  of 


100  A  U  RE  LI  AN. 

this  great  empire.  There  is  no  power  to  cure  these  but 
in  Jesus  Christ.  And  when  I  know  this,  shall  I  cease 
to  preach  Christ  to  you  because  a  man,  a  man  like  my 
self,  forbids  me  ?  Would  you  not  still  prepare  for  a 
friend  or  a  child  the  medicine  that  would  save  his  life, 
though  you  were  charged  by  another  never  so  imperi 
ously  to  forbear  ?  The  gospel  is  the  divine  medicament 
that  is  to  heal  all  your  sicknesses,  cure  all  your  dis 
eases,  remove  all  your  miseries,  cleanse  all  your  pollu 
tions,  correct  all  your  errors,  confirm  within  you  all  ne 
cessary  truth.  And  when  it  is  this  healing  draught  for 
which  your  souls  cry  aloud,  for  which  they  thirst  even 
unto  death,  shall  I  the  messenger  of  God,  sent  in  the 
name  of  his  Son  to  bear  to  your  lips  the  cup,  of  which 
if  you  once  drink  you  will  live  forever,  withhold  from 
you  that  cup,  or  dash  it  to  the  ground  ?  Shall  I,  a  me 
diator  between  God  and  man,  falter  in  my  speech,  and 
my  tongue  hang  palsied  in  my  mouth,  because  Aurelian 
speaks  ?  What  to  me,  O  Romans,  is  the  edict  of  a  Ro 
man  Emperor  ?  Down,  down,  accursed  scrawl !  nor 
insult  longer  both  God  and  man.' 

And  saying  that,  he  reached  forth  his  hand,  and  seiz 
ing  the  parchment  wrenched  it  from  its  brazen  frame, 
and  rending  it  to  shreds  strewed  them  abroad  upon  the 
air. 

It  was  done  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  At  first, 
horror-struck  at  the  audacity  of  the  deed,  and  while  it 
was  doing,  the  crowd  stood  still  and  mute,  bereft,  as  it 
were,  of  all  power  to  move  or  speak.  But  soon  as  the 
fragments  of  the  parchment  came  floating  along  upon 
the  air,  their  senses  returned,  and  the  most  violent  out 
cries,  curses,  and  savage  yells  rose  from  tHe  assembled 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  101 

multitude,  and  at  the  same  moment  a  movement  was 
made  to  rush  upon  the  Christian,  with  the  evident  pur 
pose  to  sacrifice  him  on  the  spot  to  the  offended  majesty 
of  the  empire.  I  supposed  that  their  purpose  would  be 
easily  and  instantly  accomplished,  and  that  whatever  I 
•night  attempt  to  do  in  his  defence  would  be  no  more 
than  a  straw  thrown  in  the  face  of  a  whirlwind.  But 
here  a  new  wonder  revealed  itself.  For  no  sooner  was 
it  evident,  from  the  rage  and  tumultuous  tossings  of  the 
crowd,  and  their  ferocious  cries,  that  the  last  momenta 
of  Macer  had  arrived,  than  it  was  apparent  that  all  in 
the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the  building,  on  whose 
steps  he  stood,  were  either  Christians,  or  Romans,  who, 
like  myself,  were  well  disposed  towards  that  people,  and 
would  promptly  join  them  in  their  defence  of  Macer. 
These,  and  they  amounted  to  a  large  and  dense  mass, 
at  once,  as  those  cries  arose,  sent  forth  others  as  shouts 
of  defiance,  and  facing  outwards  made  it  known  that 
none  could  assail  Macer  but  by  first  assailing  them. 

I  could  not  doubt  that  it  was  a  preconcerted  act  by 
which  the  Christian  was  thus  surrounded  by  his  friends 
— not,  as  I  afterward  found,  with  his  knowledge,  but 
done  at  their  own  suggestion  —  so  that  if  difficulty 
should  arise,  they,  by  a  show  of  sufficient  power,  might 
rescue  him,  whom  all  esteemed  in  spite  of  his  errors, 
and  also  serve  by  their  presence  to  deter  him  from  any 
further  act,  or  the  use  of  any  language,  that  should  give 
needless  offence  to  either  the  Prefect  or  his  friends. 
Their  benevolent,  design  was  in  part  frustrated  by  the 
sudden,  and,  as  it  seemed,  unpremeditated  movement  of 
Macer  in  tearing  down  the  edict.  But  they  still  server. 
9*  VOL.  H 


102  AURELIAN. 

as  a  protection  against  the  immediate  assaults  of  the  ex 
cited  and  enraged  mob. 

But  their  services  were  soon  ended,  by  the  interference 
of  a  power  with  which  it  was  in  vain  to  contend.  For 
when  the  populace  had  given  over  for  a  moment  their 
design,  awed  by  the  formidable  array  of  numbers  about 
the  person  of  Macer,  he  again,  having  never  moved  from 
the  spot  where  he  had  stood,  stretched  out  his  long  arm 
as  if  he  would  continue  what  he  had  scarcely  as  yet 
begun,  and  to  my  surprise  the  people,  notwithstanding 
what  had  occurred,  seemed  not  indisposed  to  hear  him. 
But  just  at  that  moment  —  just  as  a  deep  silence  had  at 
length  succeeded  the  late  uproar — the  distant  sound,  in 
the  direction  of  the  Prefect's,  of  a  troop  of  horse  in  rapid 
movement  over  the  pavements,  caught  the  ears  of  the 
people.  No  one  doubted  for  a  moment  what  it  signified. 

1  Your  hour  is  come,  Macer,'  cried  a  voice  from  the 
crowd. 

'  It  can  never  come  too  soon,'  answered  the  preacher, 
'in  the  service  of  God.  But  remember,  Roman  citizens, 
what  I  have  told  you,  that  it  is  for  you  and  for  Rome, 
that  I  incur  the  wrath  of  the  wicked  Varus,  and  may  so 
soon  at  his  hands  meet  the  death  of  a  Christian  witness  ' 

As  Macer  spoke,  the  Roman  guard  swept  rapidly  round 
a  corner,  and  the  multitude  giving  way  in  every  direc 
tion  left  him  alone  upon  the  spot  where  he  had  been 
stand. ng.  Regardless  of  life  and  limb,  the  horse  dashed 
through  the  flying  crowds,  throwing  down  many  and 
trampling  them  under  foot,  till  they  reached  the  Chris 
tian,  who,  undismayed  and  fearless,  maintained  his  pcs'. 
There  was  little  ceremony  in  their  treatment  of  him.  He 
was  seized  by  a  band  of  the  soldiers,  his  hands  strongly 


AURELIAN.  < 

bound  behind  him,  and  placed  upon  a  horse  —  when, 
wheeling  round  again,  the  troop  at  full  speed  vanished 
down  the  same  avenue  by  which  they  had  come,  bearing 
their  victim,  as  we  doubted  not,  to  the  tribunal  of  Varus. 
Determined  to  see  all  I  could,  and  the  last  if  it  must 
be  so,  of  this  undaunted  spirit,  I  hastened  at  my  utmost 
speed  in  the  wake  of  the  flying  troop.  Little  as  I  had 
heard  or  seen  of  this  strange  man,  I  had  become  as 
deeply  concerned  in  his  fate  as  any  could  have  been  who 
had  known  him  more  intimately,  or  believed  both  in 
him  and  with  him.  I  know  not  what  it  was,  unless  it 
were  the  signatures  of  sincerity,  of  child-like  sincerity 
and  truth  stamped  upon  him,  that  so  drew  me  toward 
him,  together  with  that  expression  of  profound  sadness, 
or  rather  of  inward  grief,  which,  wherever  we  see  it  and 
in  whomsoever,  excites  our  curiosity  and  engages  our 
sympathy.  He  was  to  me  a  man  who  deserved  a  better 
fate  than  I  feared  he  would  meet.  He  seemed  like  one 
who,  under  fortunate  circumstances,  might  have  been  of 
the  number  of  those  great  spirits  whose  iron  will  and 
gigantic  force  of  character  bear  down  before  them  all 
opposition,  and  yoke  nations  to  their  car.  Of  fear  he 
evidently  had  no  comprehension  whatever.  The  rustling 
of  the  autumn  breeze  in  his  gown  alarmed  him  as  much, 
as  did  the  clang  of  those  horses'  hoofs  upon  the  pave 
ments,  though  he  so  well  knew  it  was  the  precursor  of 
suffering  and  death. 

With  all  the  speed  I  could  use  I  hurried  to  the  hall  of 

ihe  Prefect.     The  crowds  were  pouring  in  as  I  reached 

it,  among  whom  I  also  rushed  along  and  up  the    flights 

?f  steps,  anxious  only  to  obtain  an  entrance  and    a  post 

t  observation,  whence  I  could  see  and  hear  what  should 


104  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

take  place.  I  soon  entered  the  room  of  justice.  Varus 
was  not  yet  in  his  seat  :  but  before  it  at  some  little  dis 
tance  stood  Macer,  his  hands  still  bound,  and  soldiers  of 
the  palace  on  either  side. 

I  waited  not  long  before  Varus  appeared  at  the  tribu 
nal  ;  and  following  him,  and  placed  near  him,  Pronto, 
priest  of  the  Temple  of  the  Sun.  Now,  poor  Christian  ! 
I  thought  within  myself,  if  it  go  not  hard  with  thee  it 
will  not  be  for  want  of  those  who  wish  thee  ill.  The 
very  Satan  of  thy  own  faith  was  never  worse  than  these. 
Fronto's  cruel  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him  just  as  a  hun 
gry  tiger's  are  upon  the  unconscious  victim  upon  whom 
he  is  about  to  spring.  Varus  seemed  as  if  he  sat  in  his 
place  to  witness  some  holiday  sport,  drawing  his  box  ol 
perfume  between  his  fingers,  or  daintily  adjusting  the 
folds  of  his  robe.  When  a  few  preliminary  formalities 
were  gone  through,  Varus  said,  addressing  one  of  the 
officials  of  the  place, 

'  Whom  have  we  here  ? ' 

*  Noble  Prefect,  Macer  the  Christian.' 

'  And  why  stands  he  at  my  tribunal  ? '  continued  Varus. 

1  For  a  breach  of  the  late  edict  of  the  Emperor,  by 
which  the  Christians  were  forbidden  to  preach  either 
within  their  temples  or  abroad  in  the  streets  and  squares.' 

1  Is  that  all  ?'  asked  the  Prefect. 

*  Not  only,'  it  was  replied,  '  hath  he  preached  abroad  in 
the  streets,  but  he  hath  cast   signal  contempt  upon  both 
the  Emperor  and  the  empire,  in  that  he  hath  but  now  torn 
down  from  its  brazen  frame  the  edict  wnich  he  had  first 
violated,  and  scattered  it  in  fragments  upon  the  streets.' 

*  If  these  things  are  so,  doubtless  he  hath  wel)  earned 
his  death.     How  is  this,  Galilean  ?    dost   thou   confess 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  105 

4hese  crimes,  or  shall  I  call  in  other  witnesses  of  thy 


4  First,'  replied  Macer,  *  will  it  please  the  Prefect  to 
have  these  bonds  removed  ?  For  the  sake  of  old  fellow 
ship  let  them  be  taken  off,  that,  while  my  tongue  is  free 
to  speak,  my  hands  may  be  free  also.  Else  am  I  not  a 
whole  man.' 

•  Unbind  them,'  said  the  Prefect  ;  'let  him  have  his 
humor.     Yet  shall  we  fit  on  other  bracelets  anon  that 
may  not  sit  so  easy.' 

'  Be  that  as  it  may,'  answered  the  Christian  ;  '  in  the 
meanwhile  I  would  stand  thus.  I  thank  thee  for  the 
grace.' 

'  Now,  Christian,  once  more  if  thou  art  ready.  Is  it 
the  truth  that  hath  been  witnessed  ?' 

•  It  is  the  truth,'  replied  Macer  ;  '  and  I  thank  God 
that  it  is  so.' 

•  But  knowest  thou,  Christian,  that  in  saying   that, 
thou  hast  condemned  thyself  to  instant  death  ?  Was  not 
death  the  expressed  penalty  for  violation  of  that  law  ?' 

1  Truly  it  was,'  answered  Macer  ;  '  and  what  is  death 
to  me  ?  ' 
.     '  I  suppose  death  to  be  death,'  replied  Varus. 

'  Therein  thou  showest  thyself  to  be  in  the  same  dark 
ness  as  all  the  rest  of  this  idolatrous  city.  Death  to 
the  Christian,  Prefect,  is  life  !  Crush  me  by  thy  en 
gines,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  is  my  soul  dwell 
ing  with  God,  and  looking  down  with  compassion  upon 
thy  stony  heart. 

1  Verily,  Fronto,'  said  Varus,  *  these  Christians  are  an 
ingenious  people.  What  a  wonderful  fancy  is  this  . 
But,  Christian,'  turning  to  Macer,  '  it  were  a  pity  surely 


106  A  IT  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

for  thee  to  die.     Thou  hast  a  family  as  I  learn.     Would 
not  thy  life  be  more  to  them  than  thy  death  ?' 

'  Less,'  said  the  Christian,  *  a  thousand  fold  )  Were 
it  not  a  better  vision  to  them  of  me  crowned  with  a.  vic 
tor's  wreath  and  sitting  with  Christ,  than  dwelling  here  in 
this  new  Sodom,  and  drinking  in  its  pestilential  air  ?  The 
sight  of  me  there  would  be  to  them  a  spring  of  comfort 
and  a  source  of  strength  which  here  I  can  never  be.' 

*  But,'  added  the  Prefect,   '  it  is  but  right   that  thou 
shouldst  for  the  present,  if  it  may  be,  live  here  and  take 
care  of  thy  family.     They  will  want  thee.' 

*  God,'  replied  Macer,  '  who  feeds  the  birds  of  the  air, 
and  through  all  their  wanderings   over   the   earth  from 
clime  to  clime  still  brings  them  back  to  the   accustomed 
home,  will  watch  over  those  whom  I  love,  and  bring  them 
home.     Such,  Prefect,  are  the  mercies  of  Rome  toward 
us  who  belong  to  Christ,  that  they  will  not  be  left  long 
to  bewail  my  loss.' 

'  Do  thy  family  then  hold  with  thee  ?'  said  Varus. 
'  Blessed  be  God,  they  do.' 

*  That  is  a  pity  — '  responded  the  Prefect. 

'  Say  not  so,  Varus  ;  'tis  a  joy  and  a  triumph  to  me  in 
this  hour,  and  to  them,  that  they  are  Christ's.' 

'  Still,'  rejoined  the  Prefect,  '  I  would  willingly  save 
thee,  and  make  thee  live  :  and  there  is  one  way  in  which 
it  may  be  done,  and  thou  mayest  return  in  joy  to  thy 
home.' 

'  Let  me  then  know  it,'  said  Macer. 

'  Renounce  Christ,  Macer,  and  sacrifice  ;  and  thy  life 
\s  thine,  and  honor  too.' 

Macer's  form  seemed  to  dilate  to  more  than   its  com* 


AURELIAN.  107 

mon  size,  his  countenance  seemed  bursting  with  ex 
pression  as  he  said, 

'  Renounce  Christ  ?  save  life  by  renouncing  Christ  * 
How  little,  Varus,  dost  thou  know  what  a  Christian  is  ! 
Not  though  I  might  sit  in  thy  seat  or  Aureiian's,  or  on 
the  throne  of  a  new  universe,  would  I  renounce  him. 
To  Christ,  Varus,  do  I  owe  it  that  I  am  not  now  what  I 
was,  when  I  dwelt  in  the  caves  of  the  Flavian.  To 
Christ  do  I  owe  it  that  I  am  not  now  what  I  was  when 
in  the  ranks  of  Aurelian.  To  Christ  do  I  owe  it  that 
my  soul,  once  steeped  in  sin  as  thy  robe  in  purple  dye, 
is  now  by  him  cleansed  and,  as  I  trust,  thoroughly 
purged.  To  Christ  do  I  owe  it  that  once  worshipping 
the  dumb  idols  of  Roman  superstition,  I  now  bow  down 
to  the  only  living  God  — '  '  Away  with  him  to  the 
tormentors  !'  came  from  an  hundred  voices  — '  to  Christ 
do  I  owe  it,  0  Prefect,  that  my  heart  is  not  now  as  thine, 
or  his  who  sits  beside  thee,  or  as  that  of  these,  hunger 
ing  and  thirsting —  never  after  righteousness — but  for 
the  blood  of  the  innocent.  Shall  I  then  renounce 
Christ  ?  and  then  worship  that  ancient  adulterer,  Jupiter 
greatest  and  best  ? — '  The  hall  here  rang  with  the 
ferocious  cries  of  those  who  shouted  — 

*  Give  him  over  to  us  ! ' — '  To  the  rack  with  him !  '  — 
*  Tear  out  the  tongue  of  the  blaspheming  Galilean ! ' 

'  Romans,'  cried  Varus,  rising  from  his  chair,  '  let  not 
your  zeal  for  the  gods  cause  you  to  violate  the  sanctity 
of  this  room  of  Justice.  Fear  not  but  Varus,  who,  as 
you  well  know,  is  a  lover  of  the  gods,  his  country,  and 
the  city,  will  well  defend  their  rights  and  honors  against 
whoever  shall  assail  them.' 

He  then  turned  to  Macer  and  said, 


108  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N 

*  I  should  ill  perform  my  duty  to  thee,  Christian,  did  I 
spare  any  effort  to  bring  thee  to  a  better  mind — ill  should 
I  perform  it  for  Rome  did  I  not  use  all  the  means  by  the 
State  entrusted  to  me  to  save  her  citizens  from  errors 
that,  once  taking  root  and   growing   up  to  their  proper 
height,  would  soon  overshadow,  and  by  their  poisonous 
neighborhood  kill,  that  faith  venerable  through  a  thous 
and  years,  and  of  all  we  now  inherit  from  our  ancestors 
of  greatest  and  best,  the  fruitful  and  divine  spring.' 

'  There,  Romans,  spoke  a  Roman,'  exclaimed  Fronto. 

As  Varus  ended  —  at  a  sign  and  a  word  from  him, 
what  seemed  the  solid  wall  of  the  room  in  which  we 
were,  suddenly  flew  up  upon  its  screaming  pulleys,  and 
revealed  another  apartment  black  as  night,  save  here  and 
there  where  a  dull  torch  shed  just  light  enough  to  show 
its  great  extent,  and  set  in  horrid  array  before  us,  engines 
of  every  kind  for  tormenting  criminals,  each  attended  by 
its  half-naked  minister,  ready  at  a  moment's  warning  to 
bind  the  victim,  and  put  in  motion  the  infernal  ma 
chinery.  At  this  sight  a  sudden  faintness  overspread 
my  limbs,  and  I  would  willingly  have  rushed  from  the 
hall  —  but  it  was  then  made  impossible.  And  immedi 
ately  the  voice  of  the  Prefect  was  again  heard  : 

'  Again,  Christian,  with  Rome's  usual  mercy,  I  freely 
offer  to  thee  thy  life,  simply  on  the  condition,  easily  ful 
filled  by  thee,  for  it  asks  but  one  little  word  from  thy 
lips,  that  thou  do,  for  thy  own  sake  and  for  the  sake  of 
Rome,  which  thou  sayest  thou  lovest,  renounce  Christ 
and  thy  faith.' 

*  I  have  answered  thee  once,  O  Prefect  ;    dost  thou 
think  so  meanly  of  me  as  to  suppose  that  what  but  now 
I  affirmed,  I  will  now -deny*  and  only  for  this    show    of 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  109 

iron  toys  and  human  demons  set  to  play  them  ?  It  is 
not  of  such  stuff  Aurelian's  men  are  made,  much  less  the 
soldiers  of  the  cross.  For  the  love  I  bear  to  Rome  and 
Christ,  and  even  thee,  Varus,  I  choose  to  die.' 

4  Be  assured,  Christian,  I  will  not  spare  thee.' 

'  I  ask  it  not,  Prefect  •  do  thy  worst  —  and  the  worst 
is  but  death,  which  is  life.' 

'  Pangs  that  shall  keep  thee  hours  dying,'  cried  the 
Prefect  —  '  thy  body  racked  and  rent  —  torn  piecemeal 
one  part  from  another  —  this  is  worse  than  death.  Be 
think  thee  well  Do  not  believe  that  Varus  will  relent.' 

'  That  were  the  last  thing  to  mid  faith  with  one  who 
knows  him  as  well  as  Macer  does,'  replied  the  Christian. 

A  flush  of  passion  passed  over  the  face  of  Varus. 
But  he  proceeded  in  the  same  even  tone, 

1  Is  thy  election  made,  Macer  ? ' 

4  It  is  made.' 

'  Slaves,'  cried  the  Prefect,  '  away  with  him  to  the 
rack,  and  ply  it  well.' 

'  Yes,'  repeated  Pronto,  springing  with  eager  haste 
from  his  seat,  that  he  might  lose  nothing  of  what  was 
to  be  seen  or  heard,  '  away  with  him  to  the  rack,  and 
ply  it  well.' 

Unmoved  and  unresisting,  his  face  neither  pale  nor 
his  limbs  trembling,  did  Macer  surrender  himself  into 
the  hands  of  those  horrid  ministers  of  a  cruel  and  bloody 
faith,  who  then  hastily  approached  him,  and  seizing  him 
dragged  him  toward  their  worse  than  hell.  Accom 
plished  in  their  art,  for  every  day  is  it  put  to  use,  Ma 
cer  was  in  a  moment  thrown  down  and  lashed  to  the 
iron  bars  ;  when,  each  demon  having  completed  tbr  pre- 
10  VOL.  u. 


I1C*  AURELIAN. 

paration,  ne  stood  leaning  upon  his  wheel  for  a  last  sign 
from  the  Prefect.  It  was  instantly  given,  and  while  the 
breath  even  of  every  being  in  the  vast  hall  was  suspen 
ded,  through  an  intense  interest  in  the  scene,  the  creat 
ing  of  the  engine,  as  it  began  to  turn,  sounded  upon 
the  brain  like  thunder.  Not  a  groan  nor  a  sigh  was 
heard  from  the  sufferer.  The  engine  turned  till  it  seem 
ed  as  if  any  body  or  substance  laid  upon  it  must  have 
been  wrenched  asunder.  Then  it  stopt.  And  the  min 
utes  counted  to  me  like  hours  or  ages  ere  the  word  was 
given,  and  the  wheels  unrestrained  flew  back  again  D 
their  places.  Macer  was  then  unbound.  He  at  first 
lay  where  he  was  thrown  upon  the  pavement.  But  h'.s 
life  was  yet  strong  within  his  iron  frame.  He  rose  at 
length  upon  his  feet,  and  was  again  led  to  the  presence 
of  his  judges.  His  eye  had  lost  nothing  of  its  wild  fire, 
nor  his  air  any  thing  of  its  lofty  independence. 

Varus  again  addressed  him. 

'  Christian,  you  have  felt  what  there  is  inRoman  justice. 
Reject  not  again  what  Roman  mercy  again  offers  thee  — 
life  freely,  honor  too,  and  office,  if  thou  wilt  return  once 
more  to  the  bosom  of  the  fond  mother  who  reared  thee.' 

*  Yes,'  said  Pronto,  '  thy  mother   who    reared   thee  ! 
Die  not  with  the  double  guilt  of  apostacy  and    ingrati 
tude  upon  thy  soul.' 

'  Varus,'  said  Macer,  c  art  thou  a  fool,  a  very  fool,  to 
deem  that  thy  word  can  weigh  more  with  me  than 
Christ  ?  Make  not  thyself  a  laughingstock  to  me  and 
such  Christians  as  may  be  here.  The  torments  of  thy 
importunity  are  worse  to  me  than  those  of  thy  engines.' 

*  I  wish  thee  well,  Macer  ;  'tis  that  which   makes  me 
thus  a  fool,' 


ATTRELIAN.  Ill 

1  So,  Varus,  does  Satan  wish  his  victim  well,  to  whom 
lie  offers  his  luscious  baits.  But  what  is  it  when  the  bait 
is  swallowed,  and  hell  is  all  that  has  been  gained  ?  What 
should  I  gain,  but  to  live  with  thee,  O  greater  fool  ? ' 

*  Think,  Macer,  of  thy  wife  and  children.' 

At  those  names,  Macer  bent  his  head  and  folded  his 
hands  upon  his  breast,  and  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks. 
Till  then  there  had  been,  as  it  seemed,  a  blessed  forget- 
fuiness  of  all  but  himself  and  the  scene  before  him.  Va 
rus,  misinterpreting  this  his  silence,  and  taking  it  for 
the  first  sign  of  repentance,  hastily  cried  out, 

*  There  is  the  altar,  Macer. — Slave  !  hold  to  him  the 
sacred  libation  ;  he  will  now  pour  it  out,' 

Instantly  a  slave  held  out  to  him  a  silver  ladle  filled 
with  wine. 

Macer  at  the  same  instant  struck  it  with  his  sinewy 
arm  and  sent  it  whirling  to  the  ceiling. 

'  Bind  him  again  to  the  rack,'  cried  the  Prefect,  leaping 
from  his  seat ;  '  and  let  him  have  it  till  the  nerves  break.' 

Macer  was  again  seized  and  stretched  upon  the  iron  bed 
—  this  time  upon  another,  of  different  construction,  and 
greater  power.  Again  the  infernal  machine  was  worked 
by  the  naked  slaves,  and,  as  it  was  wound  up,  inflicting 
all  that  it  was  capable  of  doing  without  absolutely  de 
stroying  life,  groans  arid  screams  of  fierce  agony  broke 
from  the  suffering  Christian.  How  long  our  ears  were 
assailed  by  those  terrific  cries,  I  cannot  say.  They  pres 
ently  died  away,  as  I  doubted  not,  only  because  Macer 
himself  had  expired  under  the  torment.  When  they  had 
wholly  ceased,  the  engine  was  reversed  and  Macer  again 
unbound.  He  fell  lifeless  upon  the  floor.  Varus,  who 
had  sat  the  while  conversing  with  Fronto,  now  said, 


112  AURELIAN. 

'  Revive  him,  and  return  him  hither.' 

Water  was  then  thrown  upon  him,  and  powerful  drinkf 
were  forced  down  his  throat.  They  produced  in  a  little 
while  their  intended  effect,  and  Macer  gave  signs  of  re« 
turning  life.  He  presently  gazed  wildly  around  him, 
and  came  gradually  to  a  consciousness  of  where  and 
what  he  was.  His  limbs  refused  their  office,  and  he  was 
supported  and  partly  lifted  to  the  presence  of  Varus. 

'  Now,  Galilean,'  cried  Varus,  {  again,  how  is  it  with 
thee  ?' 

*  Better  than  with  thee,  I  trust  in  God.' 
'  Wilt  thou  now  sacrifice  ? ' 

*  I  am  myself,  0  Varus,  this  moment  a  sacrifice,  well 
pleasing  and  acceptable  to  the   God    whom    I    worship, 
and  the  Master  whom  I  serve.' 

'  Why,  Varus,'  said  Pronto,  *  do  we  bear  longer  his 
insults  and  impieties  ?  Let  me  strike"  him  dead.'  And 
he  moved  his  hand  as  if  to  grasp  a  concealed  weapon, 
with  which  to  do  it. 

*  Nay,  nay,  hold,  Fronto  !  let  naught  be  done  in  haste 
or  passion,  nor  in  violation  of  the    law,  but   all   calmly 
and  in  order.     We  act  for  those  who  are  not  present  as 
well  as  for  ourselves.' 

A  voice  from  a  dark  extremity  of  the  room  shouted  out, 
1  It  is  Macer,  0  Prefect,  who  acts  for  us.' 
The  face  of  Macer  brightened  up,  as  if  he  had  sudden 
ly  been    encompassed   by  a  legion  of  friends.     It  was 
the  first  token   he    had    received,  that  so  much  as  one 
heart  in  the  whole  assembly  was  beating  with  his.     He 
looked  instantly  to  the  quarter  whence  the  voice    came, 
and  then,  turning  to  the  Prefect,  said, 

1  Yes,  Varus,  I  am  now  and  here  preaching    to  the 


AURELI  AN.  '    113 

people  oi  Rome,  though  I  speak  never  a  word.  'Tis  a 
sermon  that  will  fall  deeper  into  the  heart  than  ten 
thousand  sooken  one?.' 

Tho  Prefect  commanded  that  he  who  had  spoken 
should  be  brought  before  him.  But  upon  the  most  dili- 
e-ent  search  he  couJd  not  be  found. 

'  Christian,'  said  Varus,  '  I  have  other  pains  in  store, 
to  which  what  thou  hast  as  yet  suffered  is  but  as  the 
scratching  of  the  lion's  paw.  It  were  better  not  to  suf 
fer  them.  They  will  leave  no  life  in  thee.  Curse 
Christ  —  'tis  but  a  word  —  and  live.' 

Macer  bent  his  piercing  eye  upon  tlie  Prefect,  but 
answered  not. 

'  Curse  Christ,  and  live.' 

Macer  was  still  silent. 

<  Bring  in  then,'  cried  the  Prefect,  '  your  pincers,  rakes 
and  shells  ;  and  we  will  see  what  they  may  have  virtue 
to  bring  forth.' 

The  black  messengers  of  death  hastened  at  the  word 
from  their  dark  recesses,  loaded  with  those  new  instru 
ments  of  torture,  and  stood  around  the  miserable  man. 

'  Now,  Macer,'  said  Varus  once  more,  *  acknowledge 
Jupiter  Greatest  and  Best,  and  thou  shalt  live.' 

Macer  turned  round  to  the  people,  and  with  his  utmost 
voice  cried  out, 

4  There  is,  O  Romans,  but  One  God  ;  and  the  God  of 
Christ  is  he  — ' 

No  sooner  had  he  uttered  those  words  than  Pronto 
exclaimed, 

4  Ah  !  hah  !  I  have  found  thee  then  !  This  is  the 
voice,  thrice  accursed  !  that  came  from  the  sacred 
VOL.  H. 


114'  AUHELIAN. 

Temple  of  the  Sun  !  This,  Romans,  is  the  god  whose 
thunder  turned  you  paie  .* 

'  Had  it  been  rny  voice  a.one,  priest,  that  was  neard 
that  day,  I  had  been  accursed  indeed.  l  »vas  out  me 
humble  instrument  of  him  i  serve  —  driven  oy  his 
spirit.  It  was  the  voice  of  God,  not  of  man.' 

'  These,'  said  Pronto,  '  are  the  Christian  devices,  ty 
which  they  would  lead  blindfold  into  their  snares  you, 
Romans,  and  your  children.  May  Christ  ever  employ 
in  Rome  a  messenger  cunning  and  skilful  as  this  prating 
god,  and  Hellenism  will  have  naught  to  fear.' 

'  And,'  cried  Macer, '  let  your  priests  be  but  like  Pronto, 
and  the  eyes  of  the  blindest  driveler  of  you  all  will  be 
unsealed.  Ask  Pronto  into  whose  bag  went  the  bull's 
heart,  that  on  the  day  of  dedication  could  not  be  found  — 

«  Thou  liest,  Nazarene  —  ' 

1  Ply  him  with  your  pincers,'  cried  Varus,  —  and  the 
cruel  irons  were  plunged  into  his  flesh.  Yet  he  shrunk 
not  —  nor  groaned  ;  but  his  voice  was  again  heard  in 
the  midst  of  the  torture, 

«  Ask  him  from  whose  robe  came  the  old  and  withered 
heart,  the  sight  of  which  so  unmanned  Aurelian  — ' 

1  Dash  in  his  mouth,'  shrieked  Pronto,  *  and  stop  those 
lies  blacker  than  hell.' 

But  Macer  went  on,  while  the  irons  tore  him  in  every 
part. 

'  Ask  him  too  for  the  instructions  and  the  bribes  given  to 
the  haruspices,  and  to  those  who  led  the  beasts  up  to  the 
altar.  Though  1  die,  Romans,  I  have  left  the  proof  of  all 
this  in  good  hands.  I  stood  the  while  where  I  saw  it  all.' 

'  Thou  liest,  slave,'  cried  the  furious  priest ;  and  at 
the  same  moment  springing  forward  and  seizing  an 


AURELTAN.  115 

instrument  from  the  hands  of  one  of  the  tormentors,  he 
struck  it  into  the  shoulder  of  Macer,  and  the  lacerated 
arm  fell  from  the  bleeding  trunk.  A  piercing  shriek 
confessed  the  inflicted  agon}'-. 

'  Away  with  him !  '  cried  Varus,  '  away  with  him  to 
the  rack,  and  tear  him  joint  from  joint !' 

At  the  word  he  was  borne  bleeding  away,  but  not  in 
sensible  nor  speechless.  All  along  as  he  went  his  voice 
was  heard  calling  upon  God  and  Christ,  and  exhorting 
the  people  to  abjure  their  idolatries. 

He  was  soon  stretched  again  upon  the  rack,  which 
now  quickly  finished  its  work ;  and  the  Christian  Ma 
cer,  after  sufferings  which  I  knew  not  before  that  the  hu 
man  frame  could  so  long  endure  and  live,  died  a  martyr 
to  the  faith  he  had  espoused  ;  the  last  words  which  were 
heard  throughout  the  hall  being  these  ; 

*  Jesus,  I  die  for  thee,  and  my  death  is  sweet !' 

When  it  was  announced  to  the  Prefect  that  Macer 
was  dead,  he  exclaimed, 

'  Take  the  carcass  of  the  Christian  dog  and  throw  it 
upon  the  square  of  the  Jews  :  there  let  the  dogs  de 
vour  it.' 

Saying  which,  he  rose  from  his  seat,  and,  accompanied 
by  Pronto,  left  by  the  same  way  he  had  before  entered 
the  hall  of  judgment. 

Soon  as  he  had  withdrawn  from  the  apartment,  the 
base  rabble  that  had  filled  it,  and  had  glutted  their  sav 
age  souls  upon  the  horrors  of  that  scene,  cried  out  tu- 
multuously  for  the  body  of  the  Christian,  which,  when 
it  was  gladly  delivered  to  them  by  those  who  had  already 
had  enough  of  it,  they  thrust  hooks  into,  and  rushed 
out  dragging  it  toward  the  place  ordained  for  it  by  the 


116  A  UR  ELI  AN. 

Prefect.  As  they  came  forth  into  the  streets  the  mob  in- 
treased  to  an  immense  multitude  of  those,  who  seemed 
possessed  of  the  same  spirit.  Arid  they  had  not  together 
proceeded  far,  filling  the  air  with  their  cries  and  uttering 
maledictions  of  every  form  against  the  unhappy  Chris 
tians,  before  a  new  horror  was  proclaimed  by  that  blood 
thirsty  crew.  For  one  of  them,  suddenly  springing  up 
upon  the  base  of  one  of  the  public  statues,  whence  he 
could  be  heard  by  the  greater  part,  cried  out, 

'  To  the  house  of  Macer  !     To  the  house  of  Macer  ! ' 

4  Aye,  aye,'  shouted  another,  '  to  the  house  of  Macer, 
in  the  ruins  behind  the  shop  of  Demetrius  !' 

*  To  the  house  of  Macer  !  '  arose  then  in  one  deafen 
ing  shout  from  the  whole  throng;  and,  filled  with  this 
new  frenzy,  maddened  like  wild  beasts  at  the  prospect  ol 
fresh  blood,  they  abandoned  there,  where  they  had 
dragged  it,  the  body  of  Macer,  and  put  new  speed  into 
their  feet  in  their  haste  to  arrive  at  the  place  of  the  ex 
pected  sport.  I  knew  not  then  where  the  ruins  were,  or 
it  was  possible  that  I  might  have  got  in  advance  of  the 
mob,  and  given  timely  warning  to  the  devoted  family. 
Neither  did  I  know  any  to  whom  to  apply  to  discharge 
such  a  duty.  While  I  deplored  this  my  helplessness  and 
weakness,  I  suffered  myself  to  be  borne  along  with  the 
rushing  crowd.  Their  merciless  threats,  their  savage 
language,  better  becoming  barbarians  than  a  people  like 
this,  living  in  the  very  centre  of  civilization,  filled  me 
with  an  undefinable  terror.  It  seemed  to  me  that  within 
reach  of  such  a  populace,  no  people  were  secure  of  prop 
erty  or  life. 

'  The  Christians,'  said  one,  «  have  had  their  day  and  it 


ATTRELIAN.  117 

has  been  a  long  one,  too  long  for  Rome.  Let  its  night 
now  come.' 

'  Yes,'  said  another,  '  \ve  will  all  have  a  hand  in 
bringing  it  on.  Let  every  Roman  do  his  share,  and 
they  may  be  easily  rooted  out.' 

'  I  understand,'  said  another,  *  that  it  is  agreed  upon, 
that  whatever  the  people  attempt  after  their  own  man 
ner,  as  in  what  we  are  now  about,  they  are  not  to  be  in 
terfered  with.  We  are  to  have  free  pasturage,  and  feed 
where;  and  as  we  list.' 

'  Who  could  suppose,'  said  the  first,  '  it  should  be  dif 
ferent  ?  It  is  well  known  that  formerly,  though  there 
has  been  no  edict  to  the  purpose,  the  people  have  not 
only  been  permitted,  they  have  been  expected,  to  do  their 
part  of  the  business  without  being  asked  or  urged.  I 
dare  say  if  we  can  do  up  this  family  of —  who  is  it  ?' 

*  Macer,  the  Christian  Macer,'  interrupted  the  other ; — 
«  we  shall  receive  the  thanks  of  Aurelian,  though  they 
be  not  spoken,  as  heartily  as  Varus.  That  was  a  tough 
old  fellow  though.  They  say  he  has  served  many  years 
under  the  Emperor,  and  when  he  left  the  army  was  in  a 
fair  way  to  rise  to  the  highest  rank.  Curses  upon  those 
who  made  a  Christian  of  him  !  It  is  they,  not  Varus, 
who  have  put  him  on  the  rack.  But  see  !  are  not  these 
the  ruins  we  seek  ?  I  hope  so,  for  I  have  run  far  enough.' 

«  Yes,'  replied  his  companion  ;  *  these  are  the  old 
baths  !  Now  for  it  !' 

The  crowd  thereupon  abandoning  the  streets,  poured 
itself  like  an  advancing  flood  among  the  rrins,  filling  all 
the  spaces  and  mounting  up  upon  all  the  still  standing 
fragments  of  walls  and  columns.  It  was  not  at.  all  evi- 


US  A  UR  E  LI  A  N  . 

dent    where  the    house    of  the    Christian    was.     It  all 
seemed  a  confusion  of  ruins  and  of  dead  wall. 

*  Who  can  show  us,'  cried  out  one  who  took  upon  him 
self  the  office  of  leader, '  where  the  dwelling  of  Macer  is  ?' 

1  I  can,'  responded  the  slender  voice  of  a  little  boy  ;  '  for 
I  have  often  been  there  before  they  became  Christians.' 

'  Show  us  then,  my  young  urchin  ;  come  up  hither. 
Now,  lead  the  way,  and  we  will  follow.' 

'  You  need  go  no  further,'  replied  the  boy  ;  '  that  is  it  ?' 

'  That  ?     It  is  but  a  stone  wall  !' 

*  Still  it  is  the  house,'  replied  the  child  ;  *  but  the  door 
is  of  stone  as  well  as  the  walls.' 

At  that  the  crowd  began  to  beat  upon  the  walls,  and 
shout  to  those  who  were  within  to  come  forth.  They 
had  almost  wearied  themselves  out,  and  were  inclined 
to  believe  that  the  boy  had  given  them  false  information, 
when,  upon  a  sort  of  level  roof  above  the  projecting  mass 
which  served  as  the  dwelling,  a  female  form  suddenly 
appeared,  and,  advancing  to  the  edge — not  far  above,  yet 
beyond,  the  reach  of  the  mob  below  —  she  beckoned  to 
them  with  her  hand,  as  if  she  would  speak  to  them. 

The  crowd,  soon  as  their  eyes  caught  this  new  object, 
ceased  from  their  tumultuous  cries  and  prepared  to  hear 
what  she  who  approached  them  thus  might  have  to  say. 
Some,  indeed,  immediately  began  to  hurl  missiles,  but 
they  were  at  once  checked  by  others,  who  insisted  that 
she  should  have  liberty  to  speak.  And  these  wretches 
would  have  been  more  savage  still  than  I  believed  them, 
if  the  fair  girl  who  stood  there  pleading  to  them  had  not 
found  some  favor.  Hers  was  a  bright  and  sparkling 
countenance,  that  at  once  interested  the  beholder.  Deep 


AURELIAN.  119 

blushes  spread  over  her  face  and  bosom,  while  she  stood 
waiting  the  pleasure  of  the  heaving  multitude  before  her 

'  Ah  !  hah  ! '  cried  one ;  *  who  is  she  but  the  dancing 
cirl  ^Elia  !  she  is  a  dainty  bit  for  us.  Who  would  have 
thought  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  a  Christian  ! ' 

4 1  am  sorry  for  her,'  cried  another  ;  *  she  is  too  pretty 
to  be  torn  in  pieces.  We  must  save  her.' 

'  Say  on  !  say  on  ! '  now  cried  one  of  the  leaders  of 
the  crowd  as  silence  succeeded  ;  *  we  will  hear  you.' 

4  Whom  do  you  seek?'  then  asked  ./Elia,  addressing 
him  who  had  spoken. 

'  You  know  well  enough,  my  pretty  giil,'  replied  the 
other.  *  We  seek  the  house  and  family  of  Macer  the 
Christian.  Is  this  it  ?  and  are  you  of  his  household  ? ' 

*  This,'  she  replied,  '  is  the  house  of  Macer,  and  1  am 
his  daughter.     My  mother   with   all   her   children   are 
below.     And  now  why  do  you  seek  us  thus  ? ' 

1  We  seek,'  replied  the  savage,  '  not  only  you  but 
your  lives.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  unbar  this  door 
and  let  us  in.* 

Though  jElia  could  have  supposed  that  they  were 
come  for  nothing  else,  yet  the  brutal  announcement  of 
the  terrible  truth  drove  the  color  from  her  cheeks,  and 
caused  her  limbs  to  tremble.  Yet  did  it  not  abate  her 
courage,  nor  take  its  energy  from  her  mind. 

*  Good  citizens  and  friends,'  said  she,   *  for  I  am  sure 
I  must  have  some  friends  among  you,  why  should   you 
do  us  such  wrong  ?     We  are  poor  and   humble   people, 
and  have  never  had  the  power,  if  the  will  had  been  ours, 
to  injure  you.     Leave  us  in  safety,  and,  if  you  require 
it,  we  will  abandon  our  dwelling  and   even    our  native 
Rome  —  for  we  are  all  native  Romans.' 


120  AU&EL1AN. 

*  Thai:,  my  young  mistress,  will  not  serve  our  turn.    Are 
you  not,  as  you  said,  the  family  of  the  Christian  Macer  ?' 

'  Yes,  we  are.' 

1  Well,'  answered  the  other,  '  that  is  the  reason  we 
seek  you,  and  mean  to  have  you.' 

'  But,'  replied  the  girl, '  there  must  be  many  among  you 
who  would  not  willingly  harm  either  Macer  or  anything 
that  is  his.  Macer  is  not  only  a  Christian,  Romans,  but 
he  is  a  good  warm-hearted  patriot  as  ever  was  born 
within  the  compass  of  these  walls.  Brutus  himself  nev 
er  loved  freedom  nor  hated  tyrants  more  than  he.' 

*  That's  little  to  the  purpose   now-a-days,'   cried   one 
from  the  crowd. 

*  There  is  not  a  single  possession   he   has,'  continued 
JE\ia,  *  save  only  his  faith  as  a  Christian,  which  he  would 
not  surrender  for  the  love  he  bears  to  Rome  and  to  every 
thing  that  is  Roman.     Ever  since  he  was  strong  enough 
to  draw  and  wield  a  sword,  has  he  been  righting  for  you 
the  battles  of  our  country.     If  you  have  seen  him,  you 
have  seen  how  cruelly  the  weapons  of  the  enemy  have 
hacked  him.     On  every  limb  are  there  scars  of  wounds 
received  in  battle  ;  and  twice,  once  in  Gaul  and  once  in 
Asia,  has  he  been  left  for  dead  upon  the   field.      It  was 
once  in  Syria,  when  the  battle  raged  at  its  highest,   and 
Carinus  was  suddenly  beset  by  more  than  he  could  cope 
with,  and  had  else  fallen  into  the  enemy's  hands  a  pris 
oner,  or  been  quickly  despatched,  that  Macer   came  up 
and  by  his  single  arm  saved  his  general  — ' 

'  A  great  pity  that,'  cried  many  from  the  crowd. 

'  Macer,'  continued  JElia,  '  only  thought  that  Carinus 
then  represented  Rome,  and  that  his  life,,  whatever  it 
was,  and  however  worthless  in  itself,  was  needful  fof 


ATTRELIAN.  121 

Rome,  and  he  threw  himself  into  the  breach  even  as  he 
would  have  done  for  Aurelian  or  his  great  captain  Probus. 
Was  not  his  virtue  the  greater  for  that  ?  Was  he  to  feed 
his  own  humor,  and  leave  Carinus  to  perish,  when  his 
country  by  that  might  receive  detriment?  Macer  has 
never  thought  of  himself.  Had  he  been  ambitious  as 
some,  he  had  now  been  where  Mucapor  is.  But  when 
in  the  army  he  always  put  by  his  own  interests.  The 
army,  its  generals  and  Rome  were  all  in  all  with  him, 
himself,  nothing.  How,  citizens,  can  you  wish  to  do  him 
harm  ?  or  anything  that  is  his  ?  And,  even  as  a  Chris 
tian  —  for  which  you  reproach  him  and  now  seek  him 
—  it  is  still  the  same.  Believe  me  when  I  say,  that  it  is 
because  of  his  love  of  you  and  Rome  that  he  would 
make  you  all  as  he  is.  He  honestly  thinks  that  it  is 
the  doctrine  of  Christ,  which  can  alone  save  Rome  from 
the  destruction  which  her  crimes  are  drawing  down  upon 
her.  He  has  toiled  from  mo_rning  till  night,  all  day  and 
all  night  —  harder  than  he  ever  did  upon  his  marches 
either  in  Africa  or  in  Asia  —  that  you  might  be  made 
to  know  what  this  religion  of  Christ  is  ;  what  it  means ; 
what  it  will  bestow  upon  you  if  you  will  receive  it ;  and 
what  it  will  save  you  from.  And  he  would  not  scruple 
to  lose  his  life,  if  by  so  doing  he  could  give  any  greater 
efficacy  to  the  truth  in  which  he  believes.  I  would  he 
were  here  now,  Romans,  to  plead  his  own  cause 
with  you.  I  know  you  would  so  esteem  his  honesty, 
and  his  warm  Roman  heart,  that  you  would  be  more 
ready  to  serve  than  to  injure  him.' 

Pity  stood  in  some  eyes,  but  impatience  and  anger  in 
more. 

11         VOL.  u. 


122  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

*  Be  not  so  sure  of  that,'  cried  he  who  had  spoken  be 
fore.     '  No  true  Roman  can  love  a  Christian.     Chris 
tians  are  the  worst  enemies  of  the  state.     As  for  Ma- 
cer,  say  no  more  of  him ;  he  is  already  done  for.     All 
you  have  to  do  is  to  set  open  the  door.' 

'  What  say  you  of  Macer  ?  '  cried  the  miserable  girl, 
wringing  her  hands.  '  Has  any  evil  befallen  him  ?  ' 

*  What  he  will  never  recover  from,'  retorted  the  bar 
barian.     '  Varus   has  just  had   him  on  one  of  his  irpn 
playthings,  and  his  body  we  have  but  now  left  in  the 
street  yonder.     So  hasten.' 

'  O  worse  than  demons  to  kill  so  good  a  man,'  cried 
JEl'm,  the  tears  rolling  down  her  cheeks.  '  But  if  he  is 
dead,  come  and  take  us  too.  We  wish  not  now  to  live  ; 
and  ready  as  he  was  to  die  for  Christ,  so  ready  are  we 
also.  Cease  your  blows  ;  and  I  will  open  the  door.' 

But  her  agency  in  that  office  was  no  longer  needed, 
A  huge  timber  had  been  brought  in  the  meantime  from 
the  ruins,  and,  plied  by  an  hundred  hands  with  noisy 
uproar,  the  stone  door  soon  gave  way,  just  as  JElia  de 
scended  and  the  murderous  crew  rushed  in. 

The  work  of  death  was  in  part  quickly  done.  The 
sons  of  Macer,  who,  on  the  uproar,  had  instantly  joined 
their  mother  in  spite  of  all  the  entreaties  of  Demetrius, 
were  at  once  despatched,  and  dragged  forth  by  ropes  at 
tached  to  their  feet.  The  two  youngest,  transfixed  by 
spears,  were  seen  borne  aloft  as  bloody  standards  of  that 
murderous  rout.  The  mother  and  the  other  children, 
placed  in  a  group  in  the  midst  of  the  multitude,  wrre 
made  to  march  on,  the  savages  themselves  being  divided 
as  to  what  should  be  their  fate.  Some  cried  out,  '  To 
the  Tiber  ! '  —  some,  '  Crucify  them  beyond  the  walls  ! 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  123 

—  others,  '  Give  'em  the  pavements  ! '  But  the  voice  of 
one  more  ingenious  in  cruelty  than  the  rest  prevailed. 

*  To  the  square  by  Hanno's  with  them  ! ' 

This  proposition  filled  them  with  delight. 

'To  Hanno's  !  to  Hanno's  !'  resounded  on  all  sides. 
And  away  rushed  the  infuriated  mass  to  their  evil  sport. 

4  And  who  is  Hanno  ?'  I  asked  of  one  near  me. 

'  Hanno  ?  know  you  not  Hanno  ?  He  is  brother  of 
Sosia  .the  gladiator,  and  breeds  dogs  for  the  theatres. 
You  shall  soon  see  what  a  brood  he  will  turn  out. 
There  is  no  such  breeder  in  Rome  as  he.' 

Sick  at  heart  as  I  was,  I  still  pressed  on,  resolved  to 
know  all  that  Christian  heroism  could  teach  me.  We 
were  soon  at  the  square, capable  of  holding  on  its  borders 
not  only  thousands  but  tens  of  thousands,  to  which  num 
ber  it  seemed  as  if  the  throng  had  now  accumulated. 
Hanno's  extensive  buildings  and  grounds  were  upon  one 
side  of  the  square,  to  which  the  people  now  rushed,  calling 
out  for  the  great  breeder  to  come  forth  with  his  pack. 

He  was  not  slow  in  obeying  the  summons.  He  him 
self  appeared,  accompanied,  as  on  the  day  whenPiso  saw 
him  on  the  Capitol  Hill,  by  his  two  dogs  Nero  and  Sylla. 
After  first  stipulating  with  the  ringleaders  for  a  sufficient 
remuneration,  he  proceeded  to  order  the  game.  He  was 
at  first  for  separating  the  victims,  but  they  implored  to  be 
permitted  to  suffer  together,  and  so  much  mercy  was 
shown  them.  They  were  then  set  together  in  the  centre 
of  the  square,  while  the  multitude  disposed  themselves 
in  an  immense  circle  around  —  the  windows  of  the 
buildings  and  the  roofs  of  all  the  neighboring  dwellings 
being  also  thronged  with  those  who  both  looked  on  and 
applauded.  Before  the  hounds  were  let  loose,  Hanuo 


124  A  tJ  RE  LI  AN. 

approached  this  little  band,  standing  there  in  the  midst 
and  clinging  to  one  another,  and  asked  them, 

*  If  they  had  anything  to  say,  or  any  message  to  deliver, 
for  he  would  faithfully  perform  what  they  might  enjoin.' 

The  rest  weeping,  jElia  answered,  '  that  she  wished 
to  say  a  few  words  to  the  people  who  stood  around.' 

'  Speak  then,'  replied  Hanno,  '  and  you  shall  not  be 
disturbed.' 

She  then  turned  toward  the  people,  and  said.  '  I  can 
wish  you,  Romans,  before  I  die,  no  greater  good  than 
that,  like  me  and  those  who  are  with  me,  you  may  one 
day  become  Christians.  For  you  will  then  be  incapable 
of  inflicting  such  sufferings  and  wrongs  upon  any  human 
being.  The  religion  of  Jesus  will  not -suffer  you  to  do 
otherwise  than  love  others  as  you  do  yourselves ;  that  is 
the  great  Christian  rule.  Be  assured  that  we  now  die, 
as  Christians,  in  full  faith  in  Christ  and  in  joyful  hope 
of  living  with  him,  so  soon  as  these  mortal  bodies  shall 
have  perished  ;  and  that,  though  a  single  word  of  denial 
would  save  us,  we  would  not  speak  it.  Ye  have  cruelly 
slaughtered  the  good  Macer ;  do  so  now  by  us,  if  such  is 
your  will,  and  we  shall  then  be  with  him  where  he  is.' 

With  these  words  she  again  turned,  and  throwing  her 
arms  around  her  mother  and  younger  sisters,  awaited  the 
onset  of  the  furious  dogs,  whose  yellings  and  smugglings 
could  all  the  while  be  heard.  She  and  they  waited  but 
a  moment,  when  the  bloodhounds,  fiercer  than  the  fiercest 
beasts  of  the  forest,  flew  from  their  leashes,  and,  in  less 
time  than  would  be  believed,  naught  but  a  heap  of  bones 
marked  where  the  Christian  family  had  stood. 

The  crowds,  then  fully  sated  as  it  seemel  with  the 
rare  sport  of  the  morning,  dispersed,  each  having  some- 


AFRELIAN.  125 

thing  to  say  to  another  of  the  firmness  and  patriotism  of 
Varus  and  Pronto,  —  and  of  the  training  and  behavior 
of  the  dogs. 

From  the  earliest  period  of  reflection  have  I  detested 
the  Roman  character  ;  and  all  that  I  have  witnessed 
with  my  own  eyes  has  served  hut  to  confirm  those  early 
impressions.  They  are  a  people  wholly  destitute  of  hu 
manity.  They  are  the  lineal  descendants  of  robbers, 
murderers,  and  warriors  —  which  last  are  but  murderers 
under  another  name — and  they  show  their  parentage  in 
every  line  of  their  hard-featured  visages,  and  still  more 
in  all  the  qualities  of  the  soul.  They  are  stern, — un 
yielding,  unforgiving  —  cruel.  A  Roman  heart  dissec 
ted  would  be  found  all  stone.  Any  present  purpose  of 
passion,  or  ambition,  or  party  zeal,  will  extinguish  in  the 
Roman  all  that  separates  him  from  the  brute.  Bear 
witness  to  the  truth  of  this,  ye  massacres  of  Marius  and 
Sylla  !  and  others,  more  than  can  be  named,  both  before 
and  since  — •  when  the  blood  of  neighbors,  friends,  and 
fellow-citizens,  was  poured  out  as  freely  as  if  it  had 
been  the  filthy  stream  that  leaks  its  way  through  the 
public  sewers !  And,  in  good  sooth,  was  it  not  as  filthy  ? 
For  those  very  ones  so  slain,  had  the  turn  of  the  wheel 
—  as  in  very  deed  has  often  happened  —  set  them  up 
permost,  would  have  done  the  same  deed  upon  the  oth 
ers.  Happy  is  it  for  the  peace  of  the  earth  and  the 
great  cause  of  humanity,  that  this  faith  of  Christ,  whe 
ther  it  be  true  or  false,  is  at  length  beginning  to  bear 
sway,  and  doing  somewhat  to  soften,  what  more  than 
VOL.  ii. 


126  A  tJ  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

twelve  centuries  have  passed  over  and  left  in  its  original 
vileness. 

When,  like  the  rest  of  that  Roman  mob,  I  had  been 
filled  with  the  sights  and  sounds  of  the  morning,  I  turn 
ed  and  sought  the  palace  of  Piso. 

Arriving  there  I  found  Portia,  Julia,  and  Piso  sitting 
together  at  the  hour  of  dinner.  I  sat  with  them.  Piso 
had  not  left  the  palace,  since  I  had  parted  from  him. 
They  had  remained  at  peace  within,  and  as  ignorant  of 
what  had  happened  in  the  distant  parts  of  the  huge  cap 
ital,  as  we  all  were  of  what  was  then  doing  in  another 
planet.  When,  as  the  meal  drew  to  a  close,  I  had  rela 
ted  to  them  the  occurrences  of  which  I  had  just  been 
the  witness,  they  could  scarce  believe  what  they  heard, 
though  it  was  but  what  they  and  all  had  every  reason 
to  look  for,  from  the  language  which  Aurelian  had  used, 
and  the  known  hostility  of  the  Prefect.  Portia,  the 
mother,  was  moved  more,  if  it  could  be  so,  than  even 
Piso  or  Julia.  When  I  had  ended,  she  said, 

4  Think  not,  Nicomachus,  that  although,  as  thou  know- 
est,  I  am  of  Aurelian's  side  in  religion,  I  defend  these 
inhuman  wrongs.  To  inflict  them  can  make  no  part  of 
the  duty  of  any  worshipper  of  the  gods,  however  zealous 
he  may  be.  I  do  not  believe  that  the  gods  are  propitiated 
by  any  acts  which  occasion  suffering  to  their  creatures. 
I  have  seen  no  justification  under  any  circumstances  of 
human  sacrifices  —  much  less  can  I  see  any  of  sacrifices 
like  those  you  have  this  morning  witnessed.  Aurelian, 
in  authorizing  or  conniving  at  such  horrors,  has  cut  him 
self  loose  from  the  honor  and  the  affections  of  all  those 
in  Rome  whose  esteem  is  worth  possessing.  He  has 
given  himself  up  to  the  priesthood,  and  to  the  vulgar 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  If  .  127 

cer,  men  look  on  as  on  a  drowning-  dog.  If  he  slip  or 
fall  in  a  crowd,  they  will  help  to  trample  him  to  death. 
If  he  is  sick  or  poor,  none  but  his  own  tribe  will  help 
him.  A  slave  has  a  better  chance.  Even  the  Jew  des 
pises  him,  and  spits  upon  his  gown  as  he  passes.  What 
but  the  love  of  contempt  and  death  can  make  one  a 
Christian,  'tis  hard  to  see.  Had  that  captive  been  other 
than  a  Christian,  he  would  not  have  fallen  as  he  did.' 

'  Very  likely.  But  the  Christians,  you  know,  fre 
quent  not  the  amphitheatre.  Had  they  been  there  in 
their  just  proportion  to  the  rest,  the  voice  would  at  least 
have  been  a  divided  one.' 

'  Nay,  as  for  that.'  he  rejoined,  *  there  were  some 
stout  voices  raised  in  his  behalf  to  the  last,  but  too  few 
to  be  regarded.  But  even  in  the  streets,  where  all  sorts 
are  found,  there  is  none  to  take  the  Christian's  part  — 
unless  it  be  that  old  gashed  soldier  of  the  fifth  legion, 
who  stalks  through  the  streets  as  though  all  Rome  were 
his.  By  the  gods,  I  believe  he  would  beard  Aurelian 
himself !  He  will  stand  at  a  corner,  in  some  public 
place,  and  preach  to  the  crowds,  and  give  never  an  inch 
for  all  their  curses  and  noise.  They  fear  him  too  much, 
I  believe,  to  attack  him  with  aught  but  words.  And  I 
wonder  not  at  it.  A  few  days  since,  a  large  dog  was  in 
wicked  wantonness,  as  I  must  allow,  set  upon  a  poor 
Christian  boy.  Macer,  so  he  is  called  about  the  city, 
at  the  moment  came  up.  Never  tiger  seized  his  prey 
as  he  seized  that  dog,  and  first  dashing  out  his  brains 
upon  the  pavement,  pursued  then  the  pursuers  of  the 
boy,  and  beat  them  to  jelly  with  the  carcase  of  the  beast, 
and  then  walked  away  unmolested,  leading  the  child  to 
his  home.' 


128  ADR  ELI  AN  . 

'  Men  reverence  courage,  Milo,  everywhere  and  in 
ill.1 

'  That  do  they.  It  was  so  with  me  once,  when  Gal 
lienus — ' 

'  Gallop,  Milo,  to  that  mile-stone,  and  report  to  me 
how  far  we  have  come.' 

I  still  as  ever  extract  much,  Fausta,  from  my  faith 
ful  if  foolish  slave- 
In  due  time  and   without   nmdrance,   or  accident,  I 
reached  the  outer  gate  of  my  friend's  villa. 

The  gate  was  opened  by  Ccelia,  whose  husband  is 
promoted  to  the  place  of  porter.  Her  face  shone  as  she 
saw  me,  and  she  hastened  to  assure  me  that  all  were 
well  at  the  house,  holding  up  at  the  same  moment  a 
curly-headed  boy  for  me  to  admire,  whom,  with  a  blush 
and  a  faltering  tongue,  she  called  Lucius.  I  told  her  I 
was  pleased  with  the  name,  for  it  was  a  good  one,  and 
he  should  not  suffer  for  bearing  it,  if  I  could  help  it. 
Milo  thought  it  unlucky  enough  that  it  should  be  named 
after  a  Christian,  and  I  am  certain  has  taken  occasion  to 
remonstrate  with  its  mother  on  the  subject ;  but,  as  you 
may  suppose,  did  not  succeed  in  infusing  his  own  terrors. 

I  was  first  met  by  Lucilia,  who  received  me  with  her 
usual  heartiness.  Marcus  was  out  on  some  remote  part 
of  the  estate,  overseeing  his  slaves.  In  a  few  moments, 
by  the  assiduous  Lucilia  and  her  attendants,  I  was 
brushed  and  washed  and  set  down  to  a  table —  though 
it  was  so  few  hours  since  I  had  left  Rome  —  covered 
with  bread,  honey,  butter  and  olives,  a  cold  capon  with 
salads,  and  wine  such  as  the  cellars  of  Maicus  alone 
can  furnish.  As  the  only  way  in  which  *.o  keep  the 


AU  RE  LI  AN.  129 

good  opinion  of  Lucilia  is  to  eat,  I  ate  of  all  that  was 
on  the  table,  she  assuring  me  that  everything  was  from 
their  own  grounds  —  the  butter  made  by  her  own  hands 

—  and  that  I   might   search  Rome  in  vain  for  better. 
This  I  readily  admitted.     Indeed  no  butter  is  like  hers 

—  so  yellow   and  so  hard  —  nor  bread   so  light,  and  so 
white.     Even  her  honey  is  more  delicious  than  what  I 
find   elsewhere,  the  bees  knowing  by  instinct  who  they 
are  working  for  ;  and  the  poultry  is  fatter  and  tenderer, 
the  hens  being  careful  never  to  over-fatigue  themselves, 
and  the  peacocks  and  the  geese  not  to  exhaust  them 
selves    in  screaming  and  cackling.     All  nature,   alive 
and  dead,  takes  upon  itself  a  trimmer  and  more  perfect 
seeming  within  her  influences. 

I  had  sat  thus  gossipping  with  Lucilia,  enjoying  the 
balmy  breezes  of  a  warm  autumn  day,  as  they  drew 
through  the  great  hall  of  the  house,  when,  preceded  by 
the  bounding  Gallus,  the  master  of  the  house  entered 
in  field  dress  of  broad  sun-hat,  open  neck,  close  coat  de 
pending  to  the  knees,  and  boots  that  brought  home  with 
them  the  spoils  of  many  a  well-ploughed  field. 

*  Well,  sir  Christian,'  he  cried,  *  I  joy  to  see  thee,  al 
though  thus  recreant.     But  how  is  it  that  thou  lookest 
as  ever  before  ?  Are  not  these  vanities  of  silk,  and  gold, 
and  fine  clothes,  renounced  by  those  of  the  new  religion  ? 
Your  appearance  says  nay,  and,  by  Jupiter !  wine  has 
been  drunk  already  !  Nay,  nay,  Lucilia,  it  was  hardly 
pagan  act  to  tempt  our  strict  friend  with  that  Falernian.' 

*  Falernian  is  it  ? ' 

1  Yes,  of  the  vintage  of  the  fourth  of  Gallienu-j.  De 
licious,  was  it  not  ?  But  by  and  by  thou  shalt  taste 
something  better  than  that  —  as  much  better  as  that  is 


130  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

than  anything  of  the  same  name  thou  didst  ever  raise 
to  thy  lips  at  the  table  of  Aurelian.  Piso  !  never  was  a 
face  more  welcome  !  Not  a  soul  has  looked  in  upon  us 
for  days  and  days.  Not,  Lucilia,  since  tl..e  Kalends, 
when  young  Flaccus,  with  a  boat-load  of  roysterers, 
dropt  down  the  river.  But  why  comes  not  Julia  too  ? 
She  could  not  leave  the  games  and  theatres,  hah  ?' 

'  Marcus,'  said  Lucilia,  *  you  forget  it  was  the  prin 
cess  who  first  seduced  Lucius.  But  for  that  eastern 
voyage  for  the  Persian  Calpurnius,  Piso  would  have 
been  still,  I  dare  say,  what  his  parents  made  him.  Let 
us  not  yet  however  stir  this  topic  ;  but  first  of  all,  Lu 
cius,  give  us  the  city  news.  How  went  the  dedication? 
we  have  heard  strange  tales.' 

•'  How  went  it  by  report  ?  '  I  asked, 

'  0,  it  would  be  long  telling,'  said  Lucilia.  '  Only,  for 
one  thing,  we  heard  that  there  was  a  massacre  of  the 
Christians,  in  which  some  said  hundreds,  and  some, 
thousands  fell.  For  a  moment,  I  assure  you,  we  trem 
bled  for  you.  It  was  quickly  contradicted,  but  the  con 
firmation  afforded  by  your  actual  presence,  of  your  wel 
fare,  is  not  unwelcome.  You  must  lay  a  part  of  the 
heartiness  of  our  reception,  especially  the  old  Falernian, 
to  the  account  of  our  relieved  fears.  But  let  us  hear.' 

I  then  went  over  the  last  days  in  Eome,  adding  what 
I  had  been  able  to  gather  from  Milo,  when  it  was  such 
that  I  could  trust  to  it.  When  I  had  satisfied  their  cu 
riosity,  and  had  moreover  described  to  Lucilia  the 
dresses  of  Livia  on  so  great  an  occasion,  and  the  fash 
ions  which  were  raging,  Marcus  proposed  that  I  should 
accompany  him  over  his  farm,  and  observe  his  additions 
and  improvements,  and  the  condition  of  his  slaves.  1 


AURE  LI  AN  .  131 

accepted  the  proposal  with  pleasure,  and  we  soon  set 
?orth  on  our  ramble,  accompanied  by  Gallus,  now  riding 
ais  stick  and  now  gambolling  about  the  lawns  and  fields 
with  his  dog. 

I  like  this  retreat  of  Curtius  better  almost  than  any 
other  of  the  suburban  villas  of  our  citizens.  There  is 
an  air  of  calm  senatorial  dignity  about  it  which  modern 
edifices  want.  It  looks  as  if  it  had  seen  more  than  one 
generation  of  patrician  inhabitants.  There  is  little  unity 
or  order  —  as  those  words  are  commonly  understood  — 
observable  in  the  structure  of  the  house,  but  it  presents 
to  the  eye  an  irregular  assemblage  of  forms,  the  work  of 
different  ages,  and  built  according  to  the  taste  and  skill 
of  distant  and  changing  times.  Some  portions  are  new, 
some  old  and  covered  with  lichens,  mosses,  and  creep 
ing  plants.  Here  is  a  portico  of  the  days  of  Trajan,  and 
there  a  tower  that  seems  as  if  it  were  of  the  times  of  the 
republic.  Yet  is  there  a  certain  harmony  and  congruity 
running  through  the  whole,  for  the  material  used  is 
everywhere  the  same  —  a  certain  fawn-colored  stone 
drawn  from  the  quarries  in  the  neighborhood  ;  and  each 
successive  owner  and  architect  has  evidently  paid  some 
regard  to  preceding  erections  in  the  design  and  propor 
tions  of  the  part  he  has  added.  In  this  unity  of  char 
acter,  as  \vell  as  in  the  separate  beauty  or  greatness  of 
distinct  parts,  is  it  made  evident  that  persons  of  accom 
plishment  and  rank  have  alone  possessed  it.  Of  its 
earlier  history  all  that  Gurtius  has  with  certainty  ascer 
tained  is,  that  it  was  once  the  seat  of  the  great  Horten- 
sius,  before  he  had,  in  the  growth  of  his  fame  and  his 
riches,  displayed  his  luxurious  tastes  in  the  wonders  of 
Tusculum,  Bauli,  or  Laurentum.  It  was  the  first  indi- 


132  A  t7  R  E  t  i"  A  If  . 

cation  giren  by  him  of  that  love  of  elegant  and  lavish 
wastefulness,  that  gave  him  at  last  as  wide  a  celebrity 
as  his  genius.  The  part  which  he  built  is  well  known, 
and  although  of  moderate  dimensions,  yet  displays  the 
rudiments  of  that  taste  that  afterward  was  satisfied  only 
with  more  than  imperial  magnificence.  Marcus  has 
satisfied  himself  as  to  the  very  room  which  he  occupied 
as  his  study  and  library,  and  where  he  prepared  him 
self  for  the  morning  courts  ;  and  in  the  same  apartment 
—  hoping  as  he  says  to  catch  something  from  the  genius 
of  the  place  —  does  he  apply  himself  to  the  same  pro 
fessional  labors.  His  name  and  repute  are  now  second 
to  none  in  Rome.  Yet,  young  as  he  is,  he  begins  to 
weary  of  the  bar,  and  woo  the  more  quiet  pursuits  of 
letters  and  philosophy.  Nay,  at  the  present  moment, 
agriculture  claims  all  his  leisure,  and  steals  time  that 
can  ill  be  spared  from  his  clients.  Varro  and  Cato  have 
more  of  his  devotion  than  statutes  and  precedents. 

In  the  disposition  of  the  grounds,  Marcus  has  shown 
that  he  inherits  something  of  the  tastefulness  of  his 
remote  predecessor  ;  and  in  the  harvest  that  covers  his 
extensive  acres,  gives  equal  evidence  that  he  has 
studied,  not  without  profit,  the  labors  of  those  who  have 
written  upon  husbandry  and  its  connected  arts.  Varro 
especially  is  at  his  tongue's  end. 

We  soon  came  to  the  quarter  of  the  slaves  —  a  village 
almost  of  the  humble  tenements  occupied  by  this  mis 
erable  class.  None  but  the  women,  children,  sick  and 
aged,  were  now  at  home  —  the  young  and  able-bodied 
being  abroad  at  work.  No  new  disturbances  have 
broken  out,  he  tells  me  ;  the  former  severity,  followed 
by  a  well-timed  lenity,  having  subdued  or  conciliated 


A  tJ  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  133 


LETTER    X. 


FROM     P1SO     TO     FAUSTA 


I  WRITE  to  you,  Fa^^ta,  by  the  hands  of  Vabalathus, 
who  visits  Palmyra  on  his  way  to  his  new  kingdom.  I 
trust  you  will  see  him.  The  adversities  of  his  family 
and  the  misfortunes  of  his  country  have  had  most  useful 
effects  upon  his  character.  Though  the  time  has  been 
§o  short,  he  has  done  much  to  redeem  himself.  Always 
was  he,  indeed,  vastly  superior  to  his  brothers  ;  but  now, 
he  is  not  only  that,  but  very  much  more.  Qualities 
have  unfolded  themselves,  and  affections  and  tastes 
warmed  into  life,  which  we  none  of  us,  I  believe,  so 
much  as  suspected  the  existence  of.  Zenobia  has  come 
to  be  devotedly  attached  to  him,  and  to  repose  the  same 
sort  of  confidence  in  him  as  formerly  in  Julia.  All  this 
makes  her  the  more  reluctant  to  part  with  him  ;  but,  as 
it  is  for  a  throne,  she  acquiesces.  He  carries  away 
from  Rome  with  him  one  of  its  most  beautiful  and  esti 
mable  women  —  the  youngest  daughter  of  the  venera 
ble  Tacitus  —  to  whom  he  has  just  been  married.  In 
her  you  will  see  an  almost  too  favorable  specimen  of 
Roman  women. 

Several  days  have  elapsed  since  I  wrote  to  you,  giv 
ing  an  account  of  the  sufferings  and  death  of  the  Chris 
tian  Macer —  as  I  learned  them  from  those  who  were 
present  —  for  a  breach  of  the  late  edicts,  and  for  sacrile- 
12  VOL.  H. 


134  A  tf  REMAN  . 

giously,  as  the  Jaws  term  it,  tearing  down  the  parch 
ment  containing  them  from  one  of  the  columns  of  the 
capitol.  During  this  period  other  horrors  of  the  same 
kind  have  been  enacted  in  diiTerent  parts  of  the  city. 
Macer  is  not  the  only  one  who  has  already  paid  for  his 
faith  with  his  life.  All  the  restraints  of  the  law  seem 
to  be  withdrawn,  not  confessedly  but  virtually,  and  the 
Christians  in  humble  condition  —  and  such  for  the  most 
part  we  are  —  are  no  longer  safe  from  violence  in  the 
streets  of  Home.  Although,  Fausta,  you  believe  not 
with  us,  you  must,  scarcely  the  less  for  that,  pity  us  in 
our  present  straits.  Can  the  mind  picture  to  itself,  in 
some  aspects  of  the  case,  a  more  miserable  lot !  Were 
the  times,  even  at  the  worst,  so  full  of  horror  in  Palmy* 
ra  as  now  here  in  Rome?  There,  if  the  city  were  given 
up  to  pillage,  the  citizen  had  at  least  the  satisfaction  of 
dying  in  the  excitement  of  a  contest,  and  in  the  defence 
of  himself  and  his  children.  Here  the  prospect  is  — 
the  actual  scene  is  almost  arrived  and  present  —  that  all 
the  Christians  of  Rome  will  be  given  over  to  the  butch 
ery,  first,  of  the  Prefect's  court,  and  others  of  the  same 
character,  established  throughout  the  city  for  the  ex 
press  purpose  of  trying  the  Christians  —  and  next,  of 
the  mob  commissioned  with  full  powers  to  search  out, 
find,  and  slay,  all  who  bear  the  hated  name.  The 
Christians,  it  is  true,  die  for  a  great  cause.  In  that 
cause  they  would  rather  die  than  live,  if  to  live,  they 
must  sacrifice  any  of  the  interests  of  truth.  But  still 
death  is  not  preferred  ;  much  less  is  death,  in  the  re 
volting  and  agonizing  form,  which,  chiefly,  these  volun 
tary  executioners  choose,  to  be  viewed  in  any  other 
light  than  an  evil  too  great  almost  to  be  endured. 


ATT  R  E  LI  A  N  .  135 

It  would  astonish  you,  I  think,  and  give  you  concep 
tions  of  the  power  of  this  religion  such  as  you  have 
never  had  as  yet,  could  you  with  me  look  into  the  bos 
oms  of  these  thousand  Christian  families,  and  behold 
the  calmness  and  the  fortitude  with  which  they  await 
the  approaching  calamities.  There  is  now,  as  they  be 
lieve,  little  else  before  them  but  death  —  and  death,  such 
as  a  foretaste  has  been  given  of,  in  the  sufferings  of  Ma- 
cer.  Yet  are  they,  with  wonderfully  few  exceptions, 
here  in  their  houses  prepared  for  whatever  may  betide, 
and  resolved  that  they  will  die  for  him  unto  whom  they 
have  lived.  This  unshrinking  courage,  this  spirit  of 
self-sacrifice,  is  the  more  wonderful,  as  it  is  now  the  re 
ceived  belief  that  they  would  not  forfeit  their  Christian 
name  or  hope  by  withdrawing,  before  the  storm  bursts, 
from  the  scene  of  danger. 

There  have  been  those  in  the  church,  and  some  there 
are  now,  who  would  have  all,  who  in  time  of  persecu 
tion  seek  safety  in  flight,  or  by  any  form  of  compromise, 
visited  with  the  severest  censures  the  church  can  inflict, 
and  forever  after  refused  readmission  to  the  privileges 
which  they  once  enjoyed.  Paying  no  regard  to  the  pe 
culiar  temperament  and  character  of  the  individual,  they 
would  compel  all  to  remain  fixed  at  their  post,  inviting 
by  a  needless  ostentation  of  their  name  and  faith,  the 
search  and  assault  of  the  enemy.  Macer  was  of  this 
number.  Happily  they  are  now  few  :  and  the  Chris 
tians  are  left  free  —  free  from  the  constraint  of  any  ty 
rant  opinion,  to  act  according  to  the  real  feeling  of  the 
heart.  But  does  this  freedom  carry  them  away  from 
Rome  ?  Does  it  show  them  to  the  world  hurrying  in 
crowds  by  day,  or  secretly  flying  by  night,  from  the 


1 36  A  TT  R  E  L  1 A  N  . 

threatened  woes  ?  No  so.  All  who  were  here  when 
these  troubles  first  began,  are  here  now,  or  with  few  and 
inconsiderable  exceptions  —  fewer  than  I  could  wish. 
All  who  have  resorted  to  me  under  these  circumstances 
for  counsel  or  aid  have  I  advised,  if  flight  be  a  possible 
thing  to  them,  that  they  should  retreat  with  their  chil 
dren  to  some  remote  and  secluded  spot,  and  wait  till  the 
tempest  should  have  passed  by.  Especially  have  I  so 
advised  and  urged  all  whom  I  have  known  to  be  of  a 
sensitive  and  timid  nature,  or  bound  by  ties  of  more 
than  common  interest  and  necessity  to  large  circles  of 
relatives  and  dependents.  I  have  aimed  to  make  them 
believe,  that  little  gain  would  accrue  to  the  cause  of 
Christ  from  the  addition  of  them  and  theirs  to  the  mass 
of  sufferers  —  when  that  mass  is  already  so  large ; 
whereas  great  and  irreparable  loss  would  follow  to  the 
community  of  their  friends,  and  of  the  Christians  who 
should  survive.  They  would  do  an  equal  service  to 
Christ  and  his  church  by  living,  and,  on  the  first  appear 
ance  of  calmer  times,  reassuming  their  Christian  name 
and  profession  ;  being  then  a  centre  about  which  there 
might  gather  together  a  new  multitude  of  believers.  If 
still  the  enemies  of  Christ  should  prevail,  and  a  day  of 
rest  never  dawn  nor  arise,  they  might  then,  when  hope 
was  dead,  come  forth  and  add  themselves  to  the  innume 
rable  company  of  those,  born  of  Heaven,  who  hold  life 
and  all  its  joys  and  comforts  as  dross,  in  comparison 
with  the  perfect  integrity  of  the  mind.  By  such  state 
ments  have  I  prevailed  with  many.  Probus  too  has 
exerted  his  power  in  the  same  direction,  and  has  enjoy 
ed  the  happiness  of  seeing  safely  embarked  for  Greece, 


AURELIAN.  137 

or  Syria,  many  whose  lives  in  the  coming  years  will  be 
beyond  price  to  the  then  just-surviving  church. 

Yet  do  not  imagine,  Fausta,  that  we  are  an  immacu 
late  people ;  that  the  weaknesses  and  faults  which  seem 
universal  to  mankind,  are  not  to  be  discovered  in  us  • 
that  we  are  all,  what  by  our  acknowledged  principles  we 
ought  to  be.  We  have  our  traitors  and  our  renegades, 
our  backsliders,  and  our  well-dissernbling  hypocrites  — 
but  so  few  are  they,  that  they  give  us  little  disquiet,  arid 
bring  slight  discredit  upon  us  with  the  enemy.  And  beside 
these,  there  will  now  be  those,  as  in  former  persecutions, 
who,  as  the  day  of  evil  approaches,  will,  through  the 
operation  simply  of  their  fears,  renounce  their  name  and 
faith.  Of  the  former,  some  have  already  made  themselves 
conspicuous  —  conspicuous  now  by  their  cowardly  and 
hasty  apostacy,  as  they  were  before  by  a  narrow,  con 
tentious,  and  restless  zeal.  Among  others,  the  very  one, 
who,  on  the  evening  when  the  Christians  assembled 
near  the  baths  of  Macer,  was  so  forward  to  assail  the 
faith  of  Probus,  and  who  ever  before,  on  other  occasions, 
when  a  display  could  by  any  possibility  be  made  of  de 
votion  to  his  party,  or  an  ostentatious  parade  of  his  love 
of  Christ, was  always  thrusting  himself  upon  the  notice 
of  our  body  and  clamoring  for  notoriety,  has  already 
abandoned  us  and  sought  safety  in  apostacy.  Others  of 
the  same  stamp  have  in  like  manner  deserted  us.  They 
are  neither  lamented  by  us  nor  honored  by  the  other 
party.  It  is  said  of  him  whom  I  have  just  spoken  of,  that 
soon  as  he  had  publicly  renounced  Christ,  and  sacrificed, 
nisses  and  yells  of  contempt  broke  from  the  surrounding 
crowds.  He,  doubtless  it  occurred  to  them,  who  had  so 
12*  VOL.  ii. 


138  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

proved  himself  weak,  cowardly,  and  faithless,  to  one  set 
of  friends,  could  scarcely  be  trusted  as  brave  and  sincere 
by  those  to  whom  he  then  joined  himself.  There  are 
no  virtues  esteemed  by  the  Romans  like  "courage  and 
sincerity.  This  trait  in  their  character  is  a  noble  one, 
and  is  greatly  in  our  favor.  For,  much  as  they  detest 
our  superstitions,  they  so  honor  our  fortitude  under  suf 
fering,  that  a  deep  sympathy  springs  up  almost  uncon 
sciously  in  our  behalf.  Half  of  those  who,  on  ,the  first 
outbreak  of  these  disorders,  would  have  been  found  bit 
terly  hostile,  if  their  hearts  could  be  scanned  now  or 
when  this  storm  shall  have  passed  by,  would  be  found 
most  warmly  with  us  —  not  in  belief  indeed,  but  in  a 
fellow-feeling,  which  is  its  best  preparation  and  almost 
certain  antecedent.  Even  in  such  an  inhuman  rabble 
as  perpetrated  the  savage  murder  of  the  family  of  Macer, 
there  were  thousands  who,  then  driven  on  by  the  fury  of 
passion,  will,  as  soon  as  reflection  returns,  bear  testimo 
ny  in  a  wholly  altered  feeling  toward  us,  to  the  power 
with  which  the  miraculous  serenity  and  calm  courage  of 
those  true  martyrs  have  wrought  within  them.  No 
others  are  now  spoken  of  in  Rome,  but  Macer  and  his 
heroic  wife  and  children. 


Throughout  the  city  it  is  this  morning  current  that  new 
edicts  are  to  be  issued  in  the  course  of  the  day.  Milo, 
returning  from  some  of  his  necessary  excursions  into 
the  more  busy  and  crowded  parts  of  the  city,  says  that 
it  is  confidently  believed.  I  told  him  that  I  could 
scarcely  think  it,  as  I  had  reason  to  believe  that  the 
Emperor  had  engaged  that  they  should  not  be  as  yet. 


A  U  RE  LI  AN.  139 

1  An  Emperor  surely,'  said  Milo,  '  may  change  his 
mind  if  he  lists.  He  is  little  better  than  the  rest  of  us, if 
he  have  not  so  much  power  as  that.  I  think,  if  I  were 
Emperor,  that  would  be  my  chief  pleasure,  to  do  and  say 
one  thing  to  day  and  just  the  contrary  thing  to-morrow, 
without  being  obliged  to  give  a  reason  for  it.  If  there 
be  anything  that  makes  slavery  it  is  this  rendering  a 
reason.  In  the  service  of  the  most  noble  Gallienus,  fifty 
sbives  were  subject  to  me,  and  never  was  I  known  to  ren 
der  a  reason  for  a  single  office  I  put  them  to.  That  was 
being  nearer  an  Emperor  than  I  fear  I  shall  ever  be  again.' 

'  I  hope  so,  Milo,'  I  said.  *  But  what  reason  have  you 
to  think,  —  if  you  will  render  a  reason,  —  that  Aurelian 
has  changed  his  mind  ? ' 

'  I  have  given  proof,'  answered  Milo,  '  have  I  not,  that 
if  anything  is  known  in  Rome,  it  is  known  by  Curio  ? ' 

*  I  think  you  have  shown  that  he  knows  some  things.' 
'  He  was  clearly  right  about  the  sacrifices,'  responded 

Milo,  '  as  events  afterwards  declared.  Just  as  many 
suffered  as  he  related  to  me.  What  now  he  told  me 
this  morning  was  this,  "  that  certain  persons  would  find 
themselves  mistaken  —  that  some  knew  more  than  oth 
ers —  that  the  ox  led  to  the  slaughter  knew  less  than 
the  butcher —  that  great  persons  trusted  not  their  secrets 
to  every  one  —  Emperors  had  their  confidants  —  and 
Pronto  had  his."  ' 
'  '  Was  that  all  ?'  I  patiently  asked. 

*  I  thought,  noble  sir,'    he   replied,  '  that  it  was  —  for 
upon  that  he  only  sagaciously  shook  his  head  and  was 
silent.     However,  as  I  said   nothing,  knowing  well  that 
some  folks  would  die  if  they  retained  a  secret,  though 
they  never  would  part  with  it  for  the  asking,  Curio  began 


140  A  tT  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

again,  soon  as  he  despaired  of  any  question  from  me, 
and  said  "  he  could  tell  me  what  was  known  but  to  three 
persons  in  Rome."  His  wish  was  that  I  should  ask  him 
who  they  were,  and  what  it  was  that  was  known  but 
to  so  few  ;  but  I  did  not,  but  began  a  new  bargain 
with  a  man  for  his  poultry  —  for,  you  must  know,  we 
were  in  the  market.  He  then  began  himself  and  said, 
"  Who  think  you  they  were  ?"  But  I  answered  not. 
"  Who,"  he  then  whispered  in  my  ear,  "  but  Aurelian, 
Pronto,  and  myself  !"  Then  I  gratified  him  by  asking 
what  the  secret  was,  for  if  it  had  anything  to  do  with 
the  Christians  I  should  like  to  know  it.  "  I  will  tell 
it  to  thee,"  he  said,  "  but  to  no  other  in  Rome,  and  to 
thee  only  on  the  promise  that  it  goes  in  at  thy  ear  but 
not  out  at  thy  mouth."  I  said  that  I  trusted  that  I,  who 
had  kept,  I  dared  hardly  say  how  many  years,  and  kept 
them  still,  the  secrets  of  Gallienus,  should  know  how  to 
keep  and  how  to  reveal  anything  he  had  to  say.  Where 
upon,  without  any  more  reserve,  he  assured  me  that 
Pronto  had  persuaded  the  Emperor  to  publish  new  and 
more  severe  edicts  before  the  sixth  hour,  telling  him  as 
a  reason  for  it,  that  the  Christians  were  flying  from  Rome 
in  vast  numbers  ;  that  every  night  —  they  having  first 
passed  the  gates  in  the  day — multitudes  were  hastening 
into  the  country,  making  for  Gaul  and  Spain,  or  else 
embarking  in  vessels  long  prepared  for  such  service  on 
the  Tiber  ;  that,  unless  instantly  arrested,  there  would 
be  none  or  few  for  the  edicts  to  operate  upon,  and  then, 
when  all  had  become  calm  again,  and  he  —  Aurelian  — 
were  dead,  and  another  less  pious  upon  the  throne,  they 
would  all  return,  and  Rome  swarm  with  them  as  be 
fore.  Curio  said  that,  when  the  Emperor  heard  this,  he 


ATT  RE  LI  AN.  141 

broke  out  into  a  wild  and  furious  passion.  He  swore 
by  the  great  god  of  light — which  is  an  oath  Curio  says 
he  never  uses  but  he  keeps  —  that  you,  sir,  Piso,  had 
deceived  him  -*-  had  cajoled  him  ;  that  you  had  persua 
ded  him  to  wait  and  hear  what  the  Christians  had  to 
say  for  themselves  before  they  were  summarily  dealt 
with,  which  he  had  consented  to  do,  but  which  he  now 
saw  was  a  device  to  gain  time  by  which  all,  or  the  greater 
part,  might  escape  secretly  from  the  capital.  He  then,  with 
Fronto  and  the  secretaries,  prepared  and  drew  up  new 
edicts,  declaring  every  Christian  an  enemy  of  the  state 
and  of  the  gods,  and  requiring  them  everywhere  to  be 
informed  against,  and  upon  conviction  of  being  Chris 
tians,  to  be  thrown  into  prison  and  await  there  the  judg 
ment  of  the  Emperor.  These  things,  sir,  are  what  I  learn 
ed  from  Curio,  which  I  make  no  secret  of,  for  many  rea 
sons.  I  trust  you  will  believe  them,  for  I  heard  the  same 
story  all  along  the  streets,  and  mine  is  better  worthy  of 
belief  only  because  of  where  and  whom  it  comes  from.' 

I  told  Milo  that  I  could  not  but  suppose  there  was 
something  in  it,  as  I  had  heard  the  rumor  from  several 
other  sources  ;  that,  if  Curio  spoke  the  truth,  it  was 
worse  than  I  had  apprehended. 

Putting  together  what  was  thus  communicated  by  Milo, 
and  what,  as  he  said,  was  to  be  heard  anywhere  in  the 
streets,  I  feared  that  some  dark  game  might  indeed  be 
playing  by  the  priest  against  us,  by  which  our  lives 
might  be  sacrificed  even  before  the  day  were  out. 

'  Should  you  not,'  said  Julia,  *  instantly  seek  Aurelian  ? 
If  what  Milo  has  said  possess  any  particle  of  truth,  it  is 
most  evident  the  Emperor  has  been  imposed  upon  by 
the  lies  of  Fronto.  He  has  cunningly  used  his  opportu- 


142  A  IT  RE  LI  AN  . 

nities  :  and  you,  Lucius,  except  he  be  instantly  unde 
ceived,  may  be  the  first  to  feel  his  power.' 

While  she  was  speaking,  Probus,  Felix,  and  others  oi 
the  principal  Christians  of  Rome  entered  the  apartment. 
Their  faces  and  their  manner,  and  their  first  words,  de 
clared  that  the  same  conviction  possessed  them  as  us. 

'  We  are  constrained,'  said  Felix,  '  thus  with  little 
ceremony,  noble  Piso,  to  intrude  upon  your  privacy. 
But  in  truth  the  affair  we  have  come  upon  admits  not  of 
ceremony  or  delay.' 

'  Let  there  be  none  then,  I  pray,  and  let  us  hear  at 
once  what  concerns  us  all.' 

*  It  is  spread  over  the  city,'  replied  the  bishop,  *  that 
before  the  sixth  hour  edicts  are  to  be  issued  that  will  go 
to  the  extreme  we  have  feared — affecting  the  liberty  and 
life  of  every  Christian  in  Rome.  We  find  it  hard  to  be 
lieve  this,  however,  as  it  is  in  the  face  of  what  Aurelian 
has  most  expressly  stipulated.  It  is  therefore  the  wish 
and  prayer  of  the  Christians  that  you,  being  nearer  to 
him  than  any,  should  seek  an  interview  with  him,  and 
then  serve  our  cause  in  such  manner  and  by  such  argu 
ments  as  you  best  can.' 

4  This  is  what  we  desire,  Piso,'  said  they  all. 

I  replied,  that  I  would  immediately  perform  that 
which  they  desired,  but  that  I  would  that  some  other  of 
our  number  should  accompany  me.  Whereupon  Felix 
was  urged  to  join  me  ;  and  consenting,  we,  at  the  mo 
ment,  departed  for  the  palace  of  Aurelian. 

On  arriving  at  the  gardens,  it  was  only  by  urgency 
that  I  obtained  admission  to  the  presence  of  the  Empe 
ror.  But  upon  declaring  that  I  came  upon  an  errand 


AURELIAN.  143 

that  nearly  concerned  himself  and  Rome,  I  was  ordered 
to  be  brought  into  his  private  apartment. 

As  I  entered,  Aurelian  quickly  rose  from  the  table,  at 
which  he  had  been  sitting,  on  the  other  side  of  which 
sat  Fronto.  None  of  the  customary  urbanity  was  visi 
ble  in  his  deportment ;  his  countenance  was  dark  and 
severe,  his  reception  of  me  cold  and  stately,  his  voice 
more  harsh  and  bitter  than  ever.  I  could  willingly 
have  excused  the  presence  of  the  priest. 

'  Ambassadors,'  said  Aurelian  inclining  toward  us,  '  J 
may  suppose  from  the  community  of  Christians.' 

'  We  came  at  their  request,'  1  replied  ;  '  rumors  are 
abroad  through  the  city,  too  confidently  reported,  and 
too  generally  credited  to  be  regarded  as  wholly  ground 
less,  yet  which  it  is  impossible  for  those  who  know  Au 
relian  to  believe,  asserting  that  to-day  edicts  are  to  be 
issued  affecting  both  the  liberty  and  the  lives  of  the 
Christians —  ' 

'  I  would,  Piso,  that  rumor  were  never  farther  from 
the  truth  than  in  this.' 

*  But,'  I  rejoined, '  has  not  Aurelian  said  that  he  would 
proceed  against  them  no  further  till  he  had  first  heard 
their  defence  from  their  own  organs  ?' 

'  Is  it  one  party  only  in  humam  affairs,  young  Piso,' 
he  sharply  replied, '  that  must  conform  to  truth  and  keep 
inviolate  a'plighted  word?  Is  deception  novice  when 
it  is  a  Christian  who  deceives?  I  indeed  said  that  1 
would  hear  the  Christians,  though,  when  I  made  that 
promise,  I  also  said  that  'twould  profit  them  nothing  ;  but 
I  then  little  knew  why  it  was  that  Piso  was  so  urgent.' 

'  Truth,'  I  replied,  '  cannot  be  received  from  some 
quarters,  any  more  than  sweet  and  wholesome  water 


144  AU  RE  LI  AN. 

through  poisoned  channels.  Even,  Aurelian,  if  Frontc 
designed  not  to  mislead,  no  statement  passing  through 
his  lips  —  if  it  concerned  the  Christians  —  could  do  so, 
without  there  being  added  to  it,  or  lost  from  it,  much 
that  properly  belonged  to  it.  I  have  heard  that  too, 
which,  I  may  suppose,  has  been  poured  into  the  mind  of 
Aurelian,  to  fill  it  with  a  bitterer  enmity  still  toward  the 
Christians  —  that  the  Christians  have  sought  this  delay 
only  that  they  might  use  the  opportunities  thus  afforded, 
to  escape  from  his  power  —  and  that,  using  them,  they 
have  already  in  the  greater  part  fled  from  the  capital, 
leaving  to  the  Emperor  but  a  few  old  women  and  chil 
dren  upon  whom  to  wreak  his  vengeance.  How  does 
passion  bring  its  film  over  the  clearest  mind  !  How 
does  the  eye  that  will  not  see,  shut  out  the  light  though 
it  be  brighter  than  that  of  day  !  It  had  been  wiser  in 
Aurelian,  as  well  as  more  merciful,  first  to  have  tried  the 
truth  of  what  has  thus  been  thrust  upon  his  credulity 
ere  he  made  it  a  ground  of  action.  True  himself,  he 
suspects  not  others  ;  but  suspicion  were  sometimes  a 
higher  virtue  than  frank  confidence.  Had  Aurelian  but 
looked  into  the  streets  of  Rome,  he  could  not  but  have 
seen  the  grossness  of  the  lie  that  has  been  palmed  upon 
his  too  willing  ear.  Of  the  seventy  thousand  Christians 
who  dwelt  in  Rome,  the  same  seventy  thousand,  less  by 
scarce  a  seventieth  part,  are  now  here  within  their  dwell 
ings  waiting  the  will  of  Aurelian.  Take  this  on  the 
word  of  one  whom,  in  former  days  at  least,  you  have 
found  worthy  of  your  trust.  Take  it  on  the  word  of  the 
venerable  head  of  this  community  who  stands  here  to 
confirm  it  either  by  word  or  oath  —  and  in  Rome  it 


AUREL1AN.  145 

needs  but  to  know  that  Felix,  the  Christian,  has  spoken, 
to  know  that  truth  has  spoken  too.' 

*  The  noble  Piso,'  added  Felix  '  has  spoken  what  all 
who  know  aught  of  the  affairs  and  condition  of  the 
Christians  know  to  be  true.  There  is  among  us,  great 
Emperor,  too  much,  rather  than  too  little,  of  that  courage 
that  meets  suffering  and  death  without  shrinking.  Let 
your  proclamations  this  moment  be  sounded  abroad  call 
ing  upon  the  Christians  to  appear  for  judgment  upon 
their  faith  before  the  tribunals  of  Rome,  and  they  will 
come  flocking  up  as  do  your  Pagan  multitudes  to  the 
games  of  the  Flavian.' 

While  we  had  been  speaking,  Fronto  sat,  inattentive 
as  it  seemed  to  what  was  going  on.  But  at  these  last 
words  he  was  compelled  to  give  ear,  and  did  it  as  a  man 
does  who  has  heard  unwelcome  truths.  As  Felix  end 
ed,  the  Emperor  turned  toward  him  without  speaking, 
and  without  any  look  of  doubt  or  passion,  waiting  for 
such  explanation  as  he  might  have  to  give. 

Fronto,  instantly  re-assuring  himself,  rose  from  his 
seat  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  doubts  not  the  soundness 
of  his  cause,  and  feels  sure  of  the  ear  of  his  judge. 

1 1  will  not  say,  great  Emperor,  that  I  have  not  in  my 
ardor  made  broader  the  statements  which  I  have  received 
from  others.  It  is  an  error  quite  possible  to  have  been 
guilty  of.  My  zeal  for  the  gods  is  warm  and  ofttimes 
outruns  the  calm  dictates  of  reason.  But  if  what  has 
now  been  affirmed  as  true,  be  true,  it  is  more  I  believe 
man  they  who  so  report  can  make  good — or  than  others 
can,  be  they  friends  or  enemies  of  this  tribe.  Who  shall 
now  go  out  into  this  wilderness  of  streets,  into  the  midst 
,3  VOL.  n. 


146  AUR ELIAN. 

of  this  countless  multitude  of  citizens  and  strangers  — 
men  of  all  religions  and  all  manners  —  and  pick  me  out 
the  seventy  thousand  Christians,  and  show  that  all  are 
close  at  home  ?  Out  of  the  seventy  thousand,  is  it  not 
palpable  that  its  third  or  half  may  have  fled,  and  yet  it 
shall  be  in  no  man's  power  to  make  it  so  appear — to  point 
to  the  spot  whence  they  have  departed,  or  to  that  whither 
they  have  gone  ?  But  beside  this,  I  must  here  and  now 
confess,  that  it  was  upon  no  knowledge  of  my  own  gath 
ered  by  my  own  eyes  and  ears  that  I  based  the  truth, 
now  charged  as  error  ;  but  upon  what  came  to  me  through 
those  in  whose  word  I  have  ever  placed  the  most  sacred 
trust,  the  priests  of  the  temple,  and,  more  than  all,  my 
faithful  servant  —  friend  I  may  call  him  —  Curio,  into 
whom  drops  by  some  miracle  all  that  is  strange  or  new 
in  Rome.' 

I  said  in  reply,  'that  it  were  not  so  difficult  perhaps  as 
the  priest  has  made  it  seem,  to  learn  what  part  of  the 
Christians  were  now  in  Rome,  arid  what  part  were  gone. 
There  are  among  us,  Aurelian,  in  every  separate  church, 
men  who  discharge  duties  corresponding  to  those  which 
Fronto  performs  in  the  Temple  of  the  Sun.  We  have 
our  priests,  and  others  subordinate  to  them,  who  fill  offi 
ces  of  dignity  and  trust.  Beside  these,  there  are  others 
still,  who,  for  their  wealth  or  their  worth,  are  known 
well,  not  among  the  Christians  only,  but  the  Romans 
also.  Of  these,  it  were  an  easy  matter  to  learn,  whether 
or  not  they  are  now  in  Rome.  And  if  these  are  here, 
who,  from  the  posts  they  fill  would  be  the  first  victims, 
it  may  be  fairly  supposed  that  the  humbler  sort  and  less 
able  to  depart — and  therefore  safer — are  also  here.  Here 
I  stand,  and  here  stands  Felix  ;  we  are  not  among  the 


AIT  R  ELIAN.  147 

missing  !  And  we  boast  not  of  a  courage  greater  than 
may  be  claimed  for  the  greater  part  of  those  to  whom 
we  belong.' 

'  Great  Emperor,'  said  Pronto,  '  I  will  say  no  more  than 
this,  that  in  its  whole  aspect  this  bears  the  same  front, 
as  the  black  aspersions  of  the  wretch  Macer,  whose  lies, 
grosser  than  Cretan  ever  forged,  poured  in  a  foul  and 
rotten  current  from  his  swollen  lips  ;  yea,  while  the  hot 
irons  were  tearing  out  his  very  heart-strings,  did  he  still 
belch  forth  fresh  torrents  blacker  and  fouler  as  they  flow 
ed  longer,  till  death  came  and  took  him  to  other  tortures 
worse  a  thousand-fold  —  the  just  doom  of  such  as  put 
false  for  true.  That  those  were  the  malignant  lies  I 
have  said  they  are,  Aurelian  can  need  no  other  proof,  I 
hope,  than  that  which  has  been  already  given.' 

*  I  am  still,  Pronto,  as  when  your  witnesses  were  here 
before  me,  satisfied  with  your  defence.  When  indeed  I 
doubt  the  truth  of  Aurelian,  I  may  be  found  to  question 
that  of  Pronto.  Piso — hold  !  We  have  heard  and  said 
too  much  already.  Take  me  not,  as  if  I  doubted,  more 
than  Pronto,  the  word  which  you  have  uttered,  or  that 
of  the  venerable  Felix.  You  have  said  that  which  you 
truly  believe.  The  honor  of  a  Piso  has  never  been  im 
peached,  nor,  as  I  trust,  can  be.  Yet,  has  there  been 
error,  both  here  and  there,  and,  I  doubt  not,  is.  Let  it 
be  thus  determined  then.  If,  upon  any,  blame  shall  seem 
to  rest,  let  it  be  upon  myself.  If  any  shall  be  charged 
with  doing  to-day  what  must  be  undone  to-morrow,  let 
the  burden  be  upon  my  shoulders.  I  will  therefore  re 
cede  ;  the  edicts,  which,  as  you  have  truly  heard,  were  to 
day  to  have  been  promulged,  shall  sleep  at  least  another 
day.  To-morrow,  Piso,  at  the  sixth  hour,  in  the  palace 


148  ATTREL1AN. 

on  the  Palatine,  shall  Probus  —  if  such  be  the  pleasure 
of  the  Christians  —  plead  in  their  behalf.  Then  and 
there  will  I  hear  what  this  faith  is,  from  him,  or  from 
whomsoever  they  shall  appoint.  And  now  no  more.' 

With  these  words  on  the  part  of  Aurelian,  our  audience 
closed,  and  we  turned  away — grieving  to  see  that  a  man 
like  him,  otherwise  a  Titan  every  way,  should  have  sc 
surrendered  himself  into  the  keeping  of  another ;  yet 
rejoicing  that  some  of  that  spirit  of  justice  that  once 
wholly  swayed  him  still  remained,  and  that  our  appeal 
to  it  had  not  been  in  vain. 

To-morrow  then,  at  the  sixth  hour,  will  Probus  appear 
before  Aurelian.  It  is  not,  Fausta,  because  I,  or  any, 
suppose  that  Aurelian  himself  can  be  so  wrought  upon 
as  to  change  any  of  his  purposes,  that  we  desire  this 
hearing.  He  is  too  far  entered  into  this  business  —  too 
heartily,  and,  I  may  add,  too  conscientiously  —  to  be 
drawn  away  from  it,  or  diverted  from  the  great  object 
which  he  has  set  up  before  him.  I  will  not  despair, 
however,  that  even  he  may  be  softened,  and  abate  some 
what  of  that  raging  thirst  for  our  blood,  for  the  blood  of 
us  all,  that  now  seems  to  madden  him.  But,  however 
this  may  be,  upon  other  minds  impressions  may  be 
made  that  may  be  of  service  to  us  either  directly  or  in 
directly.  We  may  suppose  that  the  hearing  of  the 
Christians  will  be  public,  that  many  of  great  weight 
with  Aurelian  will  be  there,  who  never  before  heard  a 
word  from  a  Christian's  lips,  and  who  know  only  tha» 
we  are  held  as  enemies  of  the  state  and  its  religion. 
Especially,  I  doubt  not,  will  many,  most  or  all,  of  the 
Senate  be  there  ;  and  it  is  to  that  body  I  still  look,  as, 


AURELIAW.  149 

DI  the  last  resort,  able   perhaps  to  exert  a  power  that 
may  save  us  at  least  from  absolute  annihilation. 

To-day  has  Probus  been  heard  ;  and  while  others 
sleep,  I  resume  my  pen  to  describe  to  you  the  events 
of  it,  as  they  have  occurred. 

It  was  in  the  banqueting  hall  of  the  imperial  palace 
on  the  Palatine,  that  Probus  was  directed  to  appear,  and 
defend  his  cause  before  the  Emperor.  It  is  a  room  of 
great  size,  and  beautiful  in  its  proportions  and  decora 
tions.  A  row  of  marble  pillars  adorns  each  longer  side 
of  the  apartment.  Its  lofty  ceiling  presents  to  the  eye 
in  allegory,  and  in  colors  that  can  never  fade,  Rome 
victorious  over  the  world.  The  great  and  good  of 
Rome's  earlier  days  stand  around,  in  marble  or  brass, 
upon  pedestals,  or  in  niches,  sunk  into  the  substance  of 
the  walls.  And  where  the  walls  are  not  thus  broken, 
pictures  wrought  upon  them,  set  before  the  beholder 
many  of  the  scenes  in  which  the  patriots  of  former  days 
achieved  or  suffered  for  the  cause  of  their  country. 
Into  this  apartment,  soon  as  it  was  thrown  open,  poured 
a  crowd  both  of  Christians  and  Pagans,  of  Romans  and 
of  strangers  from  every  quarter  of  the  world.  There 
was  scarcely  a  remote  province  of  the  empire  that  had 
not  there  its  representative  ;  and  from  the  far  East,  dis 
cernible  at  once  by  their  costume,  were  many  present, 
who  seemed  interested  not  less  than  others  in  the  great 
questions  to  be  agitated.  Between  the  two  central  col 
umns  upon  the  western  side,  just  beneath  the  pedestal 
of  a  colossal  statue  of  Vespasian,  the  great  military  idcl 
of  Aurelian,  upon  a  seat  slightly  raised  above  the  floor. 
13*  VOL.  ii. 


150  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

having  on  his  right  hand  Livia  and  Julia,  sat  the  Empe 
ror.  He  was  surrounded  by  his  favorite  generals  and  the 
chief  members  of  the  senate,  seated,  or  else  standing 
against  the  columns  or  statues  which  were  near  him. 
There  too,  at  the  side  of,  or  immediately  before,  Aurelian, 
but  placed  lower,  were  Porphyrius,  Varus,  Fronto,  and 
half  the  priesthood  of  Rome.  A  little  way  in  front  of  the 
Emperor,  and  nearly  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  stood 
Probus. 

If  Aurelian  sat  in  his  chair  of  gold,  looking  the  omnip 
otent  master  of  all  the  world,  as  if  no  mere  mortal  force 
could  drive  him  from  the  place  he  held  and  filled  —  Pro- 
bus,  on  his  part,  though  he  wanted  all  that  air  of  pride 
and  self-confidence  written  upon  every  line  of  Aurelian's 
face  and  form,  yet  seemed  like  one,  who,  in  the  very 
calmness  of  an  unfaltering  trust  in  a  goodness  and  power 
above  that  of  earth,  was  in  perfect  possession  of  himself, 
and  fearless  of  all  that  man  might  say  or  do.  His  face 
was  pale  ;  but  his  eye  was  clear.  His  air  was  that  of  a 
man  mild  and  gentle,  who  would  not  injure  willingly  the 
meanest  thing  endowed  with  life  ;  but  of  a  man  too  of 
that  energy  and  inward  strength  of  purpose,  that  he 
would  not  on  the  other  hand  suffer  an  injury  to  be  done 
to  another,  if  any  power  lodged  within  him  could  prevent 
it.  It  was  that  of  a  man  to  be  loved,  and  yet  to  be 
feared  ;  whose  compassion  you  might  rely  upon  ;  but 
whose  indignation  at  wrong  and  injustice  might  also  be 
relied  upon,  whenever  the  weak  or  the  oppressed  should 
cry  out  for  help  against  the  strong  and  the  cruel. 

No  sooner  had  Aurelian  seated  himself,  and  the 
thronged  apartment  become  still,  than  he  turned  to  those 
who  were  present  and  said, 


ATTRELIAN.  151 

1  That  the  Christians  had  desired  this  audience  before 
him  and  the  sacred  senate,  and  he  had  therefore  granted 
them  their  request.  And  he  was  now  here,  to  listen  to 
whatever  they  might  urge  in  their  behalf.  But,'  said  he, 
*  I  tell  them  now,  as  I  have  told  them  before,  that  it  can 
be  of  no  avail.  The  acts  of  former  Emperors,  from  Nero 
to  the  present  hour,  have  sufficiently  declared  what  the 
light  is  in  which  a  true  Roman  should  view  the  super 
stition  that  would  supplant  the  ancient  worship  of  the 
gods.  It  is  enough  for  me,  that  such  is  the  acknowledged 
aim,  and  asserted  tendency  and  operation  of  this  Jewish 
doctrine.  No  merits  of  any  kind  can  atone  for  the  least 
injury  it  might  inflict  upon  that  venerable  order  of  re 
ligious  worship  which,  from  the  time  of  Romulus,  has 
exercised  over  us  its  benignant  influence,  and,  doubtless, 
by  the  blessings  it  has  drawn  down  upon  us  from  the  gods, 
crowned  our  arms  with  a  glory  the  world  has  never 
known  before — putting  under  our  feet  every  civilized 
kingdom  from  the  remotest  East  to  the  farthest  West, 
and  striking  terror  into  the  rude  barbarians  of  the  Ger 
man  forests.  Nevertheless,  they  shall  be  .heard  ;  and  if 
it  is  from  thee,  Christian,  that  we  are  to  know  what  thy 
faith  is,  let  us  now  hear  whatever  it  is  in  thy  heart  to 
say.  There  shall  no  bridle  be  put  upon  thee  ;  but  thou 
hast  freest  leave  to  utter  what  thou  wilt.  There  is  no 
thing  of  worst  concerning  either  Rome  or  her  worship, 
her  rulers  or  her  altars,  her  priesthood  or  her  gods,  but 
thou  mayest  pour  it  forth  in  such  measure  as  shall 
please  thee,  and  no  one  shall  say  thee  nay.  Now  say 
on  ;  the  day  and  the  night  are  before  thee.' 

*  I  shall  require,  great  Emperor,'  replied  Probus,  '  but 
little  of  either  ;  yet  I  thank  thee,  and  all  of  our  name 


152  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N 

who  are  here  present  thank  thee,  for  the  free  range  which 
thou  hast  offered.  I  thank  thee  too,  and  so  do  we  all, 
for  the  liberty  of  frank  and  undisturbed  speech,  which 
thou  hast  assured  to  me.  Yet  shall  I  not  use  it  to 
malign  either  the  Komans  or  their  faith.  It  is  not  with 
anger  and  fierce  denunciation,  O  Emperor,  that  it  be 
comes  the  advocate,  of  what  he  believes  to  be  a  religion 
from  Heaven,  to  assail  the  adherents  of  a  religion  like 
this  of  Rome,  descended  to  the  present  generation  through 
so  many  ages,  and  which  all  who  have  believed  it  in 
times  past,  and  all  who  believe  it  now,  do  hold  to  be  true 
and  woven  into  the  very  life  of  the  state  —  the  origin  of 
its  present  greatness,  and  without  which  it  must  fall 
asunder  into  final  ruin,  the  bond  that  held  it  together 
being  gone.  If  the  religion  of  Rome  be  false,  or  really 
injurious,  it  is  not  the  generations  now  living  who  are 
answerable  for  its  existence  formerly  or  now,  nor  for  the 
principles,  truths,  or  rites,  which  constitute  it.  They 
have  received  it,  as  they  have  received  a  thousand  cus 
toms  which  are  now  among  them,  by  inheritance  from 
the  ancestors  who  bequeathed  them,  which  they  receiv 
ed  at  too  early  an  age  to  judge  concerning  their  fitness. 
or  unfitness,  but  to  which,  for  the  reason  of  that  early 
reception,  they  have  become  fondly  attached,  even  as  to 
parents,  brothers,  and  sisters,  from  whom  they  have  never 
been  divided.  It  becomes  not  the  Christian,  therefore, 
to  load  with  reproaches  those  who  are  placed  where 
they  are,  not  by  their  own  will,  but  by  the  providence  of 
the  Great  Ruler.  Neither  does  it  become  you  of  the 
Roman  faith  to  reproach  us  for  the  faith  to  which  we 
adhere  ;  because  the  greater  proportion  of  us  also  have 
inherited  OUT  religion,  as  you  yours,  from  parents  and 


At)R*ELlAN.  153 

a  community  who  professed  it  before  us,  and  a/1  regard 
it  as  heaven-descended,  and  so  proved  to  be  divine,  that 
without  inexpiable  guilt  we  may  not  refuse  to  accept  it. 
It  must  be  in  the  face  of  reason,  then,  and  justice,  in  the 
face  of  what  is  both  wise  and  merciful,  if  either  should 
judge  harshly  of  the  other. 

*  Besides,  what  do  I   behold    in   this  wide  devotion  of 
the  Roman  people  to  the  religion  of  their  ancestors,  but 
a  testimony,  beautiful  for  the  witness  it  bears,  to  the  uni 
versality  of  that   principle    or  feeling,  which  binds  the 
human  heart  to  some  god  or  gods,  in  love  and  worship  ? 
The  worship  may  be  wrong,  or  greatly    imperfect,  and 
sometimes  injurious  ;    the  god  or  gods  may  be    so  con 
ceived  of,  as  to  act  with  hurtful  influences  upon  human 
character  and  life  ;  still  it  is  religion  ;  it  is  a  sentiment 
that  raises  the    thoughts   of  the  humble    and    toilworn 
from  the  earthly  and  the  perishing,  to  the  heavenly  and 
the  eternal.     And  this,  though  accompanied  by  some  or 
many  rites  shocking  to  humanity,  and  revolting  to  rea 
son,  is  better  than    that    men    were,  in   this   regard,  no 
higher  nor  other  than  brutes  ;    but  received   their  being 
as  they  do  theirs,  they  know  not  whence,  and  when  they 
lose  it,  depart  like  them,  they    know  not   and    care  not 
whither.     In  the  religious  character  of  the  Roman  peo 
ple — for  religious  in  the  earlier  ages  of  this  empire  they 
eminently  were,  and  they  are  religious   now,  though  in 
less  degree  —  I  behold  and  acknowledge  the  providence 
of  God,  who  has  so  framed  us  that  our  minds  tend  bj 
resistless  force  to  himself;  satisfied  at  first  with  low  and 
crude  conceptions,  but   ever   aspiring    after    those  that 
shall  be  worthier  and  worthier. 

*  And  now,  0  Emperor,  for  the  same  reason    that  w« 


154  A  U  R  E  L  TA  N  . 

Delieve  God  the  creator  did  implant  in  us  all,  of  all  tribes 
and  tongues,  this  deep  desire  to  know,  worship,  and  en- 
;oy  him,  so  that  no  people  have  ever  been  wholly  igno 
rant  of  him,  do  we  believe  that  he  has,  in  these  latter 
years,  declaied  himself  to  mankind  more  plainly  than 
he  did  in  the  origin  of  things,  or  than  he  does  through 
our  own  reason,  so  that  men  may,  by  such  better  knowl 
edge  of  himself  and  of  all  necessary  truth  which  he  has 
imparted,  be  raised  to  a  higher  virtue  on  earth,  and 
made  fit  for  a  more  exalted  life  in  heaven.  We  believe 
that  he  has  thus  declared  himself  by  him  whom  you 
have  heard  named  as  the  Master  and  Lord  of  the  Chris 
tian,  and  after  whom  they  are  called,  Jesus  Christ. 
Him,  God  the  creator,  we  believe,  sent  into  the  world  to 
teach  a  better  religion  than  the  world  had  ;  and  to  break 
down  and  forever  destroy,  through  the  operation  of  his 
truth,  a  thousand  injurious  forms  of  false  belief.  It  is 
this  religion  which  we  would  extend,  and  impart  to  those 
who  will  open  their  minds  to  consider  its  claims,  and 
their  hearts  to  embrace  its  truths,  when  they  have  once 
been  seen  to  be  divine.  This  has  been  our  task  and  our 
duty  in  Rome,  to  beseech  you  not  blindly  to  receive,  but 
strictly  to  examine,  and,  if  found  to  be  true,  then  humbly 
and  gratefully  to  adopt  this  new  message  from  above — » 

*  By  the  gods,  Aurelian,'  exclaimed  Porphyrius,  « these 
Christians  are  kindly  disposed  !  their  benevolence  and 
their  philosophy  are  alike.     We  are  obliged  to  them  — » 

*  Not  now,  Porphyrius,'  said  Aurelian.     *  Disturb  not 
the  Christian.     Say  on,  Probus.' 

<  We  hope,'  continued  Probus,  nothing  daunted  by  the 
scornful  jeers  of  the  philosopher,  '  that  we  are  sincerely 
iesirous  of  your  welfare,  and  so  pray  that  ip  *he  lapse 


AURELI  AN.  155 

of  years  all  may,  as  some  have  done,  take  at  our  hands 
the  good  we  proffer  them  ;  for,  sure  we  are,  that  would 
all  so  receive  it,  Rome  would  tower  upwards  with  a 
glory  and  a  beauty  that  should  make  her  a  thousand-fold 
more  honored  arid  beloved  than  now,  and  her  roots  would 
strike  down,  and  so  fasten  themselves  in  the  very  centre 
of  the  earth,  that  well  might  she  then  be  called  the  Eter 
nal  City.  Yet,  O  Emperor,  though  such  is  our  aim  and 
purpose  ;  though  we  would  propagate  a  religion  from 
God,  and,  in  doing  so,  are  willing  to  labor  our  lives  long, 
and,  if  need  be,  die  in  the  sacred  cause,  yet  are  we  char 
ged  as  atheists.  The  name  by  which  we  are  known,  as 
much  as  by  that  of  Christian,  is  atheist  —  ' 

'  Such,  I  have  surely  believed  you,'  said  Porphyrius, 
again  breaking  in,  '  and,  at  this  moment,  do.' 

1  But  it  is  a  name,  Aurelian,  fixed  upon  us  ignorantly 
or  slanderously  ;  ignorantly,  I  am  willing  to  believe. 
We  believe  in  a  God,  O  Emperor  ;  it  is  to  him  we  live, 
and  to  him  we  die.  The  charge  of  atheism  I  thus  pub 
licly  deny,  as  do  all  Christians  who  are  here,  as  would 
all  throughout  the  world  with  one  acclaim,  were  they  also 
here,  and  would  all  seal  their  testimony,  if  need  were, 
with  their  blood.  We  believe  in  God  ;  not  in  many 
gods,  some  greater  and  some  lesser,  as  with  you,  and 
whose  forms  are  known  and  can  be  set  forth  in  images 
and  statues  —  but  in  one,  one  God,  the  sole  monarch  of 
the  universe  ;  whom  no  man,  be  he  never  so  cunning, 
can  represent  in  wood,  or  brass,  or  stone  ;  whom,  so  to 
represent  in  any  imaginary  shape,  our  faith  denounces 
as  unlawful  and  impious.  Hence  it  is,  0  Emperor,  be 
cause  the  vulgar,  when  they  enter  our  churches  or  our 
houses,  see  there  no  image  of  god  or  goddess,  that  they 


156  AITRELIAN. 

imagine  we  are  without  a  God,  and  without  his  worship. 
And  such  conclusion  may  in  them  be  excused.     For,  till 
they  are  instructed,  it  may  not  be  easy  for  them  to   con 
ceive  of  one  God,  filling  Heaven  and  earth  with  his  pres 
ence.     But  in  others  it  is  hard  to  see  how  they  think  us 
atheists  oh  the  same  ground,  since  nothing  can  be  plain 
er  than  that  among  you,  the  intelligent,  and  the  philoso 
phers  especially,  believe  as  we  do  in  a  great  pervading 
invisible  spirit  of  the  universe.       Plato    worshipped    not 
nor  believed  in  these  stone  or  wooden  gods  ;  nor  in  any 
of  the  fables  of  the  Greek  religion  ;    yet  who  ever  has 
charged  him  with  atheism  ?     So  was  it  with  the  great 
Longinus.     I  see  before  me  those  who  are   now    famed 
for  their  science  in  such  things,  who  are  the  teachers  of 
Rome  in  them,  yet  not  one,  I  may   venture    to   declare, 
believes  other  than  as  Plato  and  Longinus    did   in    this 
regard.     It  is  an  error  or  a  calumny  that  has  ever   pre 
vailed  concerning  us  ;    but  in  former  times   some    have 
had  the  candor,  when  the  error  has   been   removed,  to 
confess  publicly  that  they  had   been  subject  to  it.     The 
Emperor  Marcus  Aurelius,  to  name  no    other,  when,  in 
the  straits  into  which  he  was  fallen  atCotinus,  he  charg 
ed    his  disasters  upon  the  Christian   soldiers,  and,  they 
praying  prostrate  upon  the  earth  for  him  and  his    army 
and  empire,  he  forthwith  gained   the  victory,  which  be 
fore  he  had  despaired  of— did  then  immediately  acknowl 
edge  that  they  had  aGod,and  that  they  should  no  longer 
be  reviled  as  atheists  ;  since  it  was  plain  that  men  might 
believe  in  a  God,  and  carry  about  the    image  of  him  in 
their  own  minds,  though  they  had  no  visible  one.     It  is 
thus  we  are  all  believers.     We  carry  about  with    us,  in 
the  sanctuary  of  our  own  bosoms,  our  image  of  the  great 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  15? 

anil  almighty  God  whom  we  serve  ;  and  before  that,  and 
that  only,  do  we  bow  down  and  worship.  Were  we  in 
deed  atheists,  it  were  not  unreasonable  that  you  dealt 
with  us  as  you  now  do,  nay  and  much  more  severely  ; 
for,  where  belief  in  a  God  does  not  exist,  it  is  not  easy 
to  see  how  any  state  can  long  hold  together.  The  ne 
cessary  bond  is  wanting,  and,  as  a  sheaf  of  wheat  when 
the  band  is  broken,  it  must  fall  asunder. 

'  The  first  principle  of  the  religion  of  Christ  is  this 
belief  in  God ;  in  his  righteous  providence  here  on 
earth,  and  in  a  righteous  retribution  hereafter.  How 
then  can  the  religion  of  Christ  in  this  respect  be  of  dan 
gerous  influence  or  tendency  ?  It  is  well  known  to  all, 
who  are  acquainted  in  the  least  with  history  or  philoso 
phy,  that  in  the  religion  of  the  Jews,  the  belief  and 
worship  of  one  God  almost  constitutes  the  religion  itself. 
Every  thing  else  is  inferior  and  subordinate.  In  this 
respect  the  religion  of  Jesus  is  like  that  of  the  Jews. 
It  is  exceeding  jealous  of  the  honor  and  worship  of  this 
one  God  —  this  very  same  God  of  the  Jews  ;  for  Jesus 
was  himself  a  Jew,  and  has  revealed  to  us  the  same  God 
whom  we  are  required  to  worship,  only  with  none  of 
the  ceremonies,  rites,  and  sacrifices,  which  were  peculiar 
to  that  people.  It  is  this  which  has  caused  us,  equally 
to  our  and  their  displeasure,  frequently  to  be  confounded 
together,  and  mistaken  the  one  for  the  other.  But  the 
differences  between  us  are,  excepting  in  the  great  doc 
trine  I  have  just  named,  very  great  and  essential.  This 
doctrine  therefore,  which  is  the  chief  of  all,  being  so  fun 
damental  with  us,  it  is  not  easy,  I  say,  to  see  how  we 
can  on  religious  accounts  be  dangerous  to  the  state 
14  VOL.  11. 


153  AITRELIAN. 

For  many  things  are  comprehended  in  and  follow  from 
this  faith.  It  is  not  a  barren,  unprofitable  speculation, 
but  a  practical  and  restraining  doctrine  of  the  greatest 
moral  efficiency.  If  it  be  not  this  to  us,  to  all  and  every 
one  of  us,  it  is  not  what  it  ought  to  be,  and  we  wrongly 
understand  or  else  wilfully  pervert  it. 

*  We  believe  that  we  are  everywhere  surrounded  by 
the  presence  of  our  God  :  that   he  is   our  witness  every 
moment,  and  everywhere  conscious,  as  we  are  ourselves, 
of  our  words,  acts,  and  thoughts  ;  and  will  bring  us  all 
to  a  strict  account  at  last  for  whatever  he  has  thus  wit 
nessed  that  has  been  contrary  to  that  rigid   law  of  holy 
living  which  he  has  established  over  us  in  Christ.    Must 
not  this  act  upon  us  most  beneficially  ?    We  believe  that 
in  himself  he  is  perfect  purity,  arid  that  he  demands  of 
us  that  we  be   so  in  our  degree  also.     We  can   impute 
to  him  none  of  the  acts,    such  as   the  believers  in  the 
Greek  and  Roman  religions  freely  ascribe  to  their  Jove, 
and  so  have  not,  as  others  have,  in  such  divine  example, 
a  warrant  and  excuse  for  the  like  enormities.     This  one 
God  too  we  also  regard  as  our  judge,  who  will  in  the 
end  sit  upon  our  conduct  throughout  the  whole   of  our 
lives,  and  punish  or  reward  according  to  what  we  shall 
have  been,  just  as  the  souls  of  men,  according  to  your 
belief,  receive    their  sentence   at  the  bar  of  Minos  and 
Rhadamanthus.     And  other  similar  troths  are  wrapt  up 
with  and  make  apart  of  this  great  primary  one.   Where 
fore  it  is  most  evident,  that  nothing  can  be  more  false 
and  absurd  than  to  think  and  speak  of  us  as  atheists, 
and  for  that  reason  a  nuisance  in  the  state. 

•  But  it  is   not  only  that  we   are    atheists,  but  that, 
through  our  atheism,  we  are  to  be  looked  upon  as  disor 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  159 

derly  members  of  society,  disturbers  of  *he  peace,  disaf 
fected  and  rebellious  citizens,  that  we  hear  on  every  side. 
I  do  not  believe  that  this  charge  has  ever  been  true  of 
.any,  much  less  of  all.  Or  if  any  Christian  has  at  any 
time  and  for  any  reason  disobeyed  the  laws,  withheld 
his  taxes  when  they  have  been  demanded,  or  neglected 
any  duties  which,  as  a  citizen  of  Rome,  he  has  owed  to 
the  Emperor,  or  any  representative  of  him,  then  so  far 
he  has  not  been  a  Christian.  Christ's  kingdom  is  not 
of  this  world  —  though,  because  we  so  often  and  so 
much  speak  of  a  kingdom,  we  have  been  thought  to 
aim  at  one  on  earth  —  it  is  above  ;  and  he  requires  us 
while  here  below  to  be  obedient  to  the  laws  and  the  ru 
lers  that  are  set  up  over  us,  so  far  as  we  deem  them  in 
accordance  with  the  everlasting  laws  of  God  and  of  right; 
to  pay  tribute  to  whomsoever  it  is  due  ;  here  in  Rome 
to  Caesar;  and,  wherever  we  are,  to  be  loyal  and  quiet 
citizens  of  the  state.  And  the  reception  of  his  religion 
tends  to  make  such  of  us  all.  Whoever  adopts  the 
faith  of  the  gospel  of  Jesus  will  be  a  virtuous,  and  holy, 
and  devout  man,  and  therefore,  both  in  Rome,  in  Per 
sia,  and  in  India,  and  everywhere,  a  good  subject. 

'  We  defend  not  nor  abet,  great  Emperor,  the  act  of 
that  holy  but  impetuous  and  passionate  man,  who  so 
lately,  in  defiance  of  the  imperial  edict  and  before  either 
remonstrance  or  appeal  on  our  part,  preached  on  the 
very  steps  of  the  capitol,  and  there  committed  that  vio 
lence  for  which  he  hath  already  answered  with  his  life 
We  defend  him  not  in  that  ;  but  neither  do  we  defend, 
but  utterly  condemn  and  execrate  the  unrighteous  haste, 
and  the  more  than  demoniac  barbarity  of  his  death.  God, 


160  ATJRELIAN. 

we  rejoice  in  all  our  afflictions  to  believe,  is  over  all,  and 
the  wicked,  the  cruel,  and  the  unjust,  shall  not  escape. 

*  Yet  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  there   are    higher 
duties  than  those  which  we  owe   to  the  state,  even  an 
there  is  a  higher  sovereign  to  whom  we  owe  allegiance 
than  the  head  of  the  state,  whether  that  head  be  king, 
senate,  or  emperor.      Man  is  not  only  a  subject  and  a 
citizen,  he  is  first  of  all  the  creature  of  God,  and  amen 
able  to  his  laws.     When  therefore  there  is  a  conflict  be 
tween  the  laws   of  God  and  the  king,  who   can  doubt 
which  are  to  be  obeyed  ?  — ' 

*  Who   does  not  see,'  cried  Porphyrius  vehemently, 
1  that  in  such  principles  there  lurks  the  blackest  treason  ? 
for  who  but  themselves  are  to  judge  when  the  laws  of 
the  two  sovereigns  do  thus  conflict?  and  what  law  then 
may  be  promulged,  but  to  them  it  may  be  an  offence?' 

'  Let  not  the  learned  Porphyrius,'  resumed  Probus, 
'  rest  in  but  a  part  of  what  I  say.  Let  him  hear  the 
whole,  and  then  deny  the  principle  if  he  can.  I  say, 
when  the  law  of  God  and  the  law  of  man  are  opposite 
the  one  to  the  other,  we  are  not  to  hesitate  which  to  o- 
bey  and  which  to  break  ;  our  first  allegiance  is  due  to 
Heaven.  And  it  is  true  that  we  ourselves  are  to  be  the 
judges  in  the  case.  But  then  we  are  judges  under  the 
same  stern  laws  of  conscience  toward  God,  which  com 
pel  us  to  violate  the  law  of  the  empire,  though  death  in 
its  most  terrific  form  be  the  penalty.  And  is  it  likely 
therefore  that  we  shall,  for  frivolous  causes,  or  imagin 
ary  ones,  or  none  at  all,  hold  it  to  be  our  duty  to  rebel 
against  the  law  of  the  land  ?  To  think  so  were  to  rate 
us  low  indeed.  They  may  surely  be  trusted  to  make 
this  decision,  whose  fidelity  to  conscience  in  other  emer- 


A  U  R  E  L  1  A  N  .  161 

gences  brings  down  upon  them  so  heavy  a  load  of  ca 
lamity.  I  may  appeal  moreover  to  all,  I  think,  who  hear 
me,  of  the  common  faith,  whether  they  themselves  would 
not  hold  by  the  same  principle  ?  Suppose  the  case  that 
your  supreme  god  —  "  Jupiter  greatest  and  best  "  —  or 
the  god  beyond  and  above  him,  in  whom  your  philoso 
phers  have  faith  —  revealed  a  law,  requiring  what  the 
law  of  the  empire  forbids,  must  you  not,  would  you  not, 
if  your  religion  were  anything  more  than  a  mere  pretence, 
obey  the  god  rather  than  the  man  ?  Although  therefore, 
great  Emperor,  we  blame  the  honest  Macer  for  his  precipi 
tancy,  yet  it  ought  to  be,  and  is,  the  determination  of  us 
all  to  yield  obedience  to  no  law  which  violates  the  law 
of  Heaven.  We  having  received  the  faith  of  Christ  in 
trust,  to  be  by  us  dispensed  to  mankind,  and  believing 
the  welfare  of  mankind  to  depend  upon  the  wide  exten 
sion  of  it,  we  will  rather  die  than  shut  it  up  in  our  own 
bosoms  —  we  will  rather  die,  than  live  with  our  tongues 
tied  and  silent  —  our  limbs  fettered  and  bound  !  We 
must  speak,  or  we  will  die  — ' 

Porphyrius  again  sprang  from  his  seat  with  intent  to 
speak,  but  the  Emperor  restrained  him. 

4  Contend  not  now,  Porphyrius  ;  let  us  hear  the  Chris 
tian.  I  have  given  him  his  freedom.  Infringe  it  not.' 

4 1  will  willingly,  noble  Emperor,'  said  Probus, '  respond 
to  whatsoever  the  learned  Tyrian  may  propose.  All  I 
can  desire  is  this  only,  that  the  religion  of  Christ  may 
be  seen,  by  those  who  are  here,  to  be  what  it  truly  is  ; 
and  it  may  be,  that  the  questions  or  the  objections  of  the 
philosopher  shall  show  this  more  perfectly  than  a  con 
tinued  discourse.' 

VOL,  n. 


162 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N 


The  Emperor,  however,  making  a  sign,  he  went  on. 

'  We  have  also  been  charged,  O  Emperor,  with  vices 
and  crimes,  committed  at  both  our  social  and  our  religious 
meetings,  at  which  nature  revolts,  which  are  even  be 
yond  in  grossness  what  have  been  ever  ascribed  to  the 
most  flagitious  of  mankind.'— -  Probus  here  enumerated 
the  many  rumors  which  had  long  been  and  still  were 
current  in  Rome,  and,  especially  by  the  lower  orders, 
believed  ;  and  drew  then  such  a  picture  of  the  charac 
ter,  lives,  manners,  and  morals  of  the  Christians,  for  the 
truth  of  which  he  appealed  openly  to  noble  and  distin 
guished  persons  among  the  Romans  then  present,  —  not 
of  the  Christian  faith,  but  who  were  yet  well  acquainted 
with  their  character  and  condition,  and  who  would  not  re 
fuse  to  testify  to  what  he  had  said — that  there  could  none 
have  been  present  in  that  vast  assembly  but  who,  if  there 
were  any  sense  of  justice  within  them,  must  have  dis 
missed  forever  from  their  minds,  if  they  had  ever  enter 
tained  them,  the  slanderous  fictions  that  had  filled  them. 

To  report  to  you,  Fausta,  this  part  of  his  defence, 
must  be  needless,  and  could  not  prove  otherwise  than 
painful.  He  then  also  refuted  in  the  same  manne'* 
other  common  objections  alleged  against  the  Christians 
and  their  worship;  the  lateness  of  its  origin  ;  its  beggarly 
simplicity  ;  the  low  and  ignorant  people  who  alone  or 
chiefly,  both  in  Rome  and  throughout  the  world,  have 
received  it  ;  the  fierce  divisions  and  disputes  among  the 
Christians  themselves  ;  the  uncertainty  of  its  doctrines  ; 
the  rigor  of  its  morality,  as  unsuited  to  mankind  ;  as 
also  its  spiritual  worship  ;  the  slowness  of  its  progress, 
and  the  little  likelihood  that,  if  God  were  its  author,  he 
\votild  leave  it  to  be  trodden  under  foot  and  so  nearly 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N.  16S 

annihilated  by  the  very  people  to  whom  he  was  sending 
it  ;  these  and  other  similar  things  usually  urged  against 
the  Christians,  and  now  for  the  first  time,  it  is  probable, 
by  most  of  the  Romans  present,  heard,  refuted,  and  ex 
plained,  did  Probus  set  forth,  both  with  brevity  ajid 
force  :  making  nothing  tedious  by  reason  of  a  frivolous 
minuteness,  nor  yet  omitting  a  single  topic  or  argument, 
which  it  was  due  to  the  cause  he  defended,  to  bring  be 
fore  the  minds  of  that  august  assembly.  He  then  ended 
his  appeal  in  the  following  manner  : 

'  And  now,  great  Emperor,  must  you  have  seen,  in 
what  I  have  already  said,  what  the  nature  and  charac 
ter  of  this  religion  is  ;  for  in  denying  and  disproving 
the  charges  that  have  been  brought  against  it,  I  have,  in 
most  particulars,  alleged  and  explained  some  opposite 
truth  or  doctrine,  by  which  it  is  justly  characterized. 
But  that  you  may  be  informed  the  more  exactly  for 
what  it  is  you  are  about  to  persecute  and  destroy  us, 
and  for  what  it  is  that  we  cheerfully  undergo  torture 
and  death  sooner  than  surrender  or  deny  it,  listen  yet  a 
moment  longer.  You  have  heard  that  we  are  named 
after  Jesus,  Jesus  of  Nazareth  in  Galilee,  who,  in  the 
reign  of  Tiberius,  was  born  in  Judea,  and  there  lived 
and  taught,  a  prophet  and  messenger  of  God,  till  he 
was  publicly  crucified  by  his  bitter  enemies  the  Jews. 
We  do  not  doubt,  nay,  we  all  steadfastly  believe,  that 
this  Jesus  was  the  Son  of  the  Most  High  God,  by  reasnr 
of  his  wonderful  endowments  and  his  delegated  office 
as  the  long-looked-for  Messiah  of  the  Jews.  As  the 
evidences  of  his  great  office  and  of  his  divine  origin,  he 
performed  those  miracles  that  rilled  with  astonishment 
the  whole  Jewish  nation,  and  strangers  from  all  parts  of 


164  AU  RE  LI  AN. 

the  world ;  and  so  wrought  even  upon  the  mind  of  you: 
great  predecessor,  the  Emperor  Tiberius,  that  he  would 
fain  receive  him  into  the  number  of  the  gods  of  Rome. 
And  why,  0  Emperor,  was  this  great  personage  sent 
fotfh  into  the  world,  encircled  by  the  rays  of  divine 
power  and  wisdom  and  goodness,  an  emanation  of  the 
self-existent  and  infinite  God  ?  And  why  do  we  so  honor 
him,  and  cleave  to  him,  that  we  are  ready  to  offer  our 
lives  in  sacrifice,  while  we  go  forth  as  preachers  of  his 
faith,  making  him  known  to  all  nations  as  the  universal 
Saviour  and  Redeemer  ?  This  Jesus  came  into  the 
world,  and  lived  and  taught  ;  was  preceded  by  so  long 
a  preparation  of  prophetic  annunciation,and  accompanied 
by  so  sublime  demonstrations  of  almighty  power,  to 
this  end,  arid  to  this  end  only,  that  he  might  save  us 
from  our  sins,  and  from  those  penal  consequences  in 
this  world  and  in  worlds  to  come,  which  are  bound  to 
them  by  the  stern  decrees  of  fate.  Yes,  Aurelian,  Jesus 
came  only  that  he  might  deliver  mankind  from  the 
thraldom  of  every  kind  of  wickedness,  and  raise  them 
to  a  higher  condition  of  virtue  and  happiness.  He  was 
a  great  moral  and  religious  teacher  and  reformer,  en 
dowed  with  the  wisdom  and  power  of  the  supreme  God. 
He  himself  toiled  only  in  Judea  ;  but  he  came  a  bene 
factor  of  Rome  too — of  Rome  as  well  as  of  Judea.  He 
came  to  purge  it  of  its  pollutions  ;  to  check  in  their 
growth  those  customs  and  vices  which  seem  destined, 
reaching  their  natural  height  and  size,  to  overlay  and 
bury  in  final  ruin  the  city  and  the  empire  ;  he  came  to 
make  us  citizens  of  Heaven  through  the  virtues  which 
his  doctrine  should  build  up  in  the  soul,  and  so  citizens 
of  Rome  more  worthy  of  that  name  than  any  who  ever 


A  TJR  E  L  I  A  N.  1C5 

tfent  before.  He  came  to  heal,  to  mend,  to  refoirn  the 
state  ;  not  to  set  up  a  kingdom  in  hostility  to  this,  but  in 
unison  with  it  ;  an  inward,  invisible  kingdom  in  every 
man's  heart,  which  should  be  as  the  soul  of  the  other. 

'  It  was  to  reform  the  morals  of  the  state,  to  save  it 
from  itself,  that  you,  Aurelian,  in  the  first  years  of  your 
reign,  applied  those  energies  that  have  raised  the  em 
pire  to  more  than  its  ancient  glory.  You  aimed  to  in 
fuse  a  love  of  justice  and  of  peace,  to  abate  the  extra 
vagances  of  the  times,  to  stem  the  tide  of  corruption  that 
seemed  about  to  bear  down  upon  its  foul  streams  the 
empire  itself,  tossing  upon  its  surface  a  wide  sea  of  ru 
in.  It  was  a  great  work  —  too  great  for  man.  It  need 
ed  a  divine  strength  and  a  more  than  human  wisdom. 
These  were  not  yours  ;  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  the 
work  did  not  go  on  to  its  completion.  Jesus  is  a  refor 
mer  ;  of  Rome  and  of  the  world  also.  The  world  is 
his  theatre  of  action  ;  but  with  him  there  is  leagued 
the  arm  and  the  power  of  the  Supreme  God  ;  and  the 
work  which  he  attempts  shall  succeed.  It  cannot  but 
succeed.  It  is  not  so  much  he,  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  who 
has  come  forth  upon  this  great  errand  of  mercy  and  love 
to  mankind,  as  God  himself  in  and  through  him.  It  is 
the  Great  God  of  the  Universe,  who,  by  Jesus  Christ  as 
his  agent  and  messenger,  comes  to  you,  and  would  re 
form  and  redeem  your  empire,  and  out  of  that  which  is 
transitory,  and  by  its  inherent  vice  threatened  with  de 
cay  and  death,  make  a  city  and  an  empire  which,  through 
the  energy  of  its  virtues,  shall  truly  be  eternal.  Caf, 
you  not,  0  Emperor,  supposing  the  claims  of  this  reli 
gion  to  a  divine  origin  to  be  just,  view  it  with  respect? 
Nay,  could  you  not  greet  its  approach  to  your  capital 


166  A  IT  R  ELIAN. 

with  pleasure  and  gratitude,  seeing  its  aim  is  nothing 
else  than  this,  to  purify,  purge,  and  reform  the  state,  to 
heal  its  wounds,  cleanse  its  putrifying  members,  and  in 
fuse  the  element  of  a  new  and  healthier  life?  Methinks 
a  true  patriot  and  lover  of  Rome  must  rejoice  when  any 
power  approaches  and  offers  to  apply  those  remedies 
that  may,  with  remotest  probability  only,  bid  fair  to  cure 
the  diseases  of  which  her  body  is  sick,  nigh  unto  death. 

'  Such,  Aurelian,  was  and  is  the  aim  of  Jesus,  in  the 
religion  which  he  brought.  And  of  us,  who  are  his 
ministers,  his  messengers  —  who  go  forth  bearing  these 
glad  tidings  of  deliverance  from  sin  and  corruption,  and 
of  union  with  God  —  our  work  is  the  same  with  his. 
We  but  repeat  the  lessons  which  he  gave.  Are  we,  in 
so  doing,  enemies  of  Rome  ?  Are  we  not  rather  ner 
truest  friends  ?  By  making  men  good,  just,  kind,  and 
honest,  are  we  not  at  the  same  time  making  them  the 
best  citizens  ?  Are  there  in  Rome  better  citizens  than 
the  Christians? 

'  You  will  now  perhaps,  Aurelian,  desire  to  be  told 
by  what  instruments  Christianity  hopes  to  work  such 
changes.  It  is  simply,  0  Emperor,  by  the  power  of 
truth  !  The  religion  which  we  preach  uses  not  force. 
Were  the  arm  of  Aurelian  at  this  moment  the  arm  of 
Probus,he  could  do  no  more  than  he  now  does  with  one, 
which,  as  the  world  deems,  is  in  the  comparison  power 
less  as  an  infant's.  In  all  that  pertains  to  the  soul,  and 
its  growth  and  purification,  there  must  be  utmost  free 
dom.  The  soul  must  suffer  no  constraint.  There  must 
be  no  force  laid  upon  it,  but  the  force  of  reason  and  the 
appeal  of  divine  truth.  All  that  we  ask  or  want  in 
Rome  is  the  liberty  of  speech  —  the  free  allowance  to 


AURELIAN.  167 

offer  to  men  the  truth  in  Christ,  and  persuade  them  to 
consider  it.  With  that  we  will  engage  to  reform  and 
save  the  whole  world.  We  want  not  to  meddle  with 
affairs  of  state,  nor  with  the  citizen's  relations  to  the 
state  ;  we  have  naught  to  do  with  the  city,  or  its  laws, 
or  government,  beyond  what  was  just  now  stated.  We 
desire  but  the  privilege  to  worship  God  according  to  OUT 
consciences,  and  labor  for  the  moral  welfare  of  all  who 
will  hear  our  words. 

'  And  if  you  would  know  what  the  truth  is  we  impart, 
and  by  which  we  would  save  the  souls  of  men,  and  re 
form  the  empire  and  the  world,  be  it  known  to  you  that 
we  preach  Jesus  Christ  and  him  crucified,  whom  God 
raised  up  and  sent  into  the  world  to  save  it  by  his  doc 
trine  and  life,  and  whom — being  by  the  Jews  hung  upon 
a  cross  —  God  raised  again  from  the  dead.  We  preach 
him  as  the  Son  of  God  with  power,  by  whom  God  has 
been  revealed  to  mankind  in  his  true  nature  and  perfec 
tions,  and  through  whom,  he  and  he  only  is  to  be  wor 
shipped.  In  the  place  of  Jupiter,  we  bring  you  a  revela 
tion  of  the  God  and  Father  of  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord  — 
creator  of  the  universe,  who  will  call  all  men  into  judg 
ment  at  last,  rewarding  or  punishing  according  to  what 
they  have  done.  Through  Jesus,  we  preach  also  a  re 
surrection  from  the  dead.  We  show,  by  arguments 
which  cannot  be  refuted,  that  this  Jesus,  when  he  had 
been  crucified  and  slain,  and  had  lain  three  days  in 
the  tomb,  was  called  again  to  life,  and  taken  up  to  Hea 
ven,  as  an  example  of  what  should  afterwards  happen 
to  all  his  followers.  Through  him  has  immortality  been 
plainly  brought  to  light  and  proved,  and  this  transport 
ing  truth  we  declare  wherever  we  go.  Through  Jesus, 


168  AURELIAN. 

we  preach  also  repentance  ;  we  declare  to  men  then 
wickedness  ;  we  show  them  what  and  how  great  it  is  ; 
and  exhort  them  to  repentance,  as  what  can  alone  save 
them  from  the  wrath  to  come. 

'  This,  0  Emperor,  is  the  great  work  which  we,  as 
apostles  of  Jesus,  have  to  do,  to  convince  the  world  how 
vile  it  is  ;  how  surely  their  wickedness,  unrepented  of, 
will  work  their  misery  and  their  ruin,  arid  so  lead  them 
away  from  it,  and  up  the  safe  and  pleasant  heights  of 
Christian  virtue.  We  find  Rome  sunk  in  sensuality  and 
sin  ;  nor  only  that,  hut  ignorant  of  its  own  guilt,  dead  to 
the  wickedness  into  which  it  has  fallen,  and  denying 
any  obligations  to  a  different  or  better  life.  Such  do  we 
find,  indeed,  not  Rome  only,  but  the  world  itself,  dead 
in  trespasses  and  sin.  We  would  rouse  it  from  this 
sleep  of  death.  We  desire,  first  of  all,  to  waken  in  the 
"souls  of  men  a  perception  of  the  guilt  of  sin  !  a  feeling 
of  the  wide  departure  of  their  lives  from  the  just  demands 
of  the  being  who  made  them.  The  prospect  of  immor 
tality  were  nothing  without  this.  Longer  life  were  but 
a  greater  evil  were  we  not  made  alive  to  sin  and  righte 
ousness.  Life  on  earth,  Aurelian,  is  not  the  best  thing, 
but  virtuous  life  :  so  life  without  end  is  not  the  best  thing, 
but  life  without  fault  or  sin.  But  to  the  necessity  of 
such  a  life  men  are  now  insensible  and  dead.  They 
love  the  prospect  of  an  immortal  existence,  but  not  of  that 
purity  without  which  immortality  were  no  blessing. 
But  it  is  this  moral  regeneration  —  this  waking  up  of 
men  dead  in  sin,  to  the  life  of  righteousness,  which  is  the 
great  aim  of  Christianity.  Repentance  !  was  the  first 
word  of  its  founder  when  he  began  preaching  in  Judea  ; 
it  is  the  first  word  of  his  followers  wherever  they  go, 


A  UR  E  LI  AN.  169 

and  should  be  the  last.     This,  0  Aurelian,  in  few  words, 
is  the  gospel  of  Jesus  —  "  Repent  and  live  forever  !" 

1  In  the  service  of  this  gospel,  and  therefore  of  you 
and  the  world,  we  are  content  to  labor  while  we  live,  to 
suffer  injury  and  reproach,  and  if  need  be,  and  they  to 
whom  we  go  will  not  understand  us,  lay  down  our 
lives.  Almost  three  hundred  years  has  it  appealed  to 
mankind  ;  and  though  not  with  the  success  that  should 
have  followed  upon  the  labor  of  those  who  have  toiled 
for  the  salvation  of  men,  yet  has  it  not  been  rejected  ev 
erywhere,  nor  has  the  labor  been  in  vain.  The  fruit 
that  has  come  of  the  seed  sown  is  great  and  abundant. 
In  every  corner  of  the  earth  are  there  now  those  who 
name  the  name  of  Christ.  And  in  every  place  are  there 
many  more,  than  meet  the  eye,  who  read  our  gospels, 
believe  in  them,  and  rejoice  in  the  virtue  and  the  hope 
which  have  taken  root  in  their  souls.  Here  in  Rome, 
0  Aurelian,  are  there  multitudes  of  believers,  whom  the 
ear  hears  not,  nor  the  eye  sees,  hidden  away  in  the  se 
curity  of  this  sea  of  roofs,  whom  the  messengers  of  your 
power  never  could  discover.  Destroy  us,  you  may  ; 
sweep  from  the  face  of  Rome  every  individual  whom 
the  most  diligent  search  can  find,  from  the  gray-haired 
man  of  fourscore  to  the  infant  that  can  just  lisp  the 
name  of  Jesus,  and  you  have  not  destroyed  the  Chris 
tians ;  the  Christian  church  still  stands — not  unharmed, 
but  founded  as  before  upon  a  rock,  against  which  the 
powers  of  earth  and  hell  can  never  prevail  ;  and  soon 
as  this  storm  shall  have  overblown,  those  other,  and  now 
secret,  multitudes,  of  whom  I  speak,  will  come  forth, 
and  the  wilderness  of  the  church  shall  blossom  again  as 
15  VOL.  n. 


170  AttR  E  LI  A  N. 

a  garden  in  the  time  of  spring.  God  is  working  with 
us,  and  who  therefore  can  prevail  against  us  ! 

'  Bring  not  then,  Aurelian,  upon  your  own  soul ;  bring 
not  upon  Rome,  the  guilt  that  would  attend  this  un 
necessary  slaughter.  It  can  but  defer  for  an  hour  or  a 
day  the  establishment  of  that  kingdom  of  righteousness, 
which  must  be  established,  because  it  is  God's,  and  he 
is  laying  its  foundations  and  building  its  walls.  Have 
pity  too,  great  Emperor,  upon  this  large  multitude  of 
those  who  embrace  this  faith,  and  who  will  not  let  it  go 
for  all  the  terrors  of  your  courts  and  judges  and  en 
gines  ;  they  will  all  suffer  the  death  of  Macer  ere  they 
will  prove  false  to  their  Master.  Let  not  the  horrors  of 
that  scene  be  renewed,  nor  the  greater  ones  of  an  indis 
criminate  massacre.  I  implore  your  compassions,  not 
for  myself,  but  for  these  many  thousands,  who,  by  my 
ministry,  have  been  persuaded  to  receive  this  faith.  For 
them  my  heart  bleeds  ;  them  I  would  save  from  the 
death  which  impends.  Yet  it  is  a  glorious  and  a  happy 
death,  to  die  for  truth  and  Christ !  It  is  better  to  die 
so,  knowing  that  by  such  death  the  very  church  itself  is 
profited,  than  to  die  in  one's  own  bed,  and  only  to  one's 
self.  So  do  these  thousands  think  ;  and  whatever  com 
passion  I  may  implore  for  them,  they  would  each  and 
all,  were  such  their  fate,  go  with  cheerful  step,  as  those 
who  went  to  some  marriage  supper,  to  the  axe,  to  the 
stake,  or  the  cross.  Christianity  cannot  die  but  with 
the  race  itself.  Its  life  is  bound  up  in  the  life  of  man, 
and  man  must  be  destroyed  ere  that  can  perish.  Be 
hold  then,  Aurelian,  the  labor  that  is  thine!' 

Soon  as  he  had  ceased,  Porphyrius  started  from  his 
seat  and  said, 


AU  RE  L  I  A  N  .  171 

'It  is  then,  0  Romans,  just  as  it  has  ever  been  af 
firmed.  The  Galileans  are  atheists  !  They  believe  not 
in  the  gods  of  Rome,  nor  in  any  in  whom  mankind  can 
ever  have  belief.  I  doubt  not  but  they  think  themselves 
believers  in  a  God.  They  think  themselves  to  have 
found  one  better  than  others  have ;  but  upon  any  defini 
tion,  that  I  or  you  could  give  or  understand,  of  atheism, 
they  are  atheists  !  Their  God  is  invisible  ;  he  is  a  uni 
versal  spirit,  like  this  circumambient  air  ;  of  no  form, 
dwelling  in  no  place.  But  how  can  that  without  ef 
frontery  be  called  a  being,  which  is  without  body  and 
form ;  which  is  everywhere  and  yet  nowhere  ;  which, 
from  the  beginning  of  the  world  has  never  been  heard 
of,  till  by  these  Nazarenes  he  is  now  first  brought  to 
light,  or,  if  older,  exists  in  the  dreams  of  the  dreaming 
Jews,  whose  religion,  as  they  term  it,  is  so  stuffed  with 
fable,  that  one  might  not  expect,  after  the  most  exact 
and  laborious  search,  to  meet  with  so  much  as  a  grain  of 
truth.  Yet,  whatever  these  Galileans  may  assert,  their 
speech  is  hardly  to  be  received  as  worthy  of  belief,  when, 
in  their  very  sacred  records,  such  things  are  to  be  found 
as  contradict  themselves.  For  in  one  place  —  not  to 
mention  a  thousand  cases  of  the.  like  kind —  it  is  said 
that  Jesus,  the  head  of  this  religion,  on  a  certain  occa 
sion  walked  upon  the  sea  ;  when,  upon  sifting  the  nar 
rative,  it  is  found  that  it  was  but  upon  a  paltry  lake,  the 
lake  of  Galilee,  upon  which  he  performed  that  great 
feat! — a  thing  to  which  the  magic  of  which  he  is  accu 
sed —  and  doubtless  with  justice  —  was  ptainly  equal; 
while  to  walk  upon  the  sea  might  well  have  been  be 
yond  that  science.  How  much  of  what  we  have  heard 
is  to  be  distrusted  also,  concerning  the  love  which  these 


172  A  tlR  E  L  I  A  N  . 

Nazarenes  bear  to  Rome.  We  may  well  pray  to  be  de» 
livered  from  the  affection  of  those,  whose  love  manifests 
itself  in  the  singular  manner  of  seeking  our  destruction* 
He  who  loves  me  so  well  as  to  poison  me  that  I  may 
have  the,  higher  enjoyment  of  Elysium,  I  could  hardly 
esteem  as  a  well-wisher  or  friend.  These  Jewish  fana 
tics  love  us  after  somewhat  the  same  fashion.  In  the 
zeal  of  their  affection  they  would  make  us  heirs  of  what 
they  call  their  heavenly  kingdom,  but  in  the  meanwhile 
destroy  our  religion,  deprive  us  of  our  ancient  gods,  and 
sap  the  foundations  of  the  state. 

*  Romans,  in  spite  of  all  you  have  heard  of  another 
sort,  I  hope  you  will  still  believe  that  experience  is  one 
of  your  most  valuable  teachers,  and  that  therefore  you 
will  be  slow  to  forsake  opinions  which  have  the  sanc- 
tion  of  venerable  age,  under  which  you  have  flourished 
so  happily,  and  your  country  grown  to  so  amazing  a 
height  of  glory  and  renown.  I  think  you  would  deserve 
the  fate  which  this  new-made  religion  would  bring  you 
to,  if  you  abandoned  the  worship  of  a  thousand  years, 
for  the  presumptuous  novelty  of  yesterday.  Not  a  name 
of  greatness  or  honor  can  be  quoted  of  those  who  have 
adorned  this  foreign  fiction  ;  while  all  the  great  and 
good  of  Greece  and  Rome,  philosophers,  moralists,  his 
torians,  and  poets,  are  to  be  found  on  the  side  of  Hellen 
ism.  If  we  cast  from  us  that  which  we  have  experi 
enced  to  be  good,  by  what  rule  and  on  what  principle 
can  we  afterward  put  our  trust  in  anything  else  ?  And 
it  is  considerable,  that  which  has  ever  been  asserted  of 
this  people,  and  which  I  doubt  not  is  true,  that  they  have 
ever  been  prying  about  with  their  doctrines  and  their 
mysteries  among  the  poor  and  humbler  sort,  among  wo- 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  173 

men,  slaves,  simple  and  unlearned  folks,  while  they  have 
never  appealed  to,  nor  made  any  converts  of,  ihe  great 
and  the  learned,  who  alone  are  capable  of  judging  of 
the  truth  of  such  things. 

'  Who  are  the  believers  here  in  Rome  ?  Who  knows 
them?  Are  the  sacred  Senate  Christians?  or  any  dis 
tinguished  for  their  rank  ?  No  ;  with  exceptions,  too 
few  to  be  noticed,  those  who  embrace  it  are  among  the 
dregs  of  the  people,  men  wholly  incapable  of  separating 
true  from  false,  and  laying  properly  the  safe  foundations 
of  a  new  religion  —  a  work  too  great  even  for  philoso 
phers.  And  not  only  does  this  religion  draw  to  itself 
the  poor  and  humble  and  ignorant,  but  the  base  and 
wicked  also  ;  persons  known,  while  of  our  way,  to  have 
been  notorious  for  their  vices,  have  all  of  a  sudden  join 
ed  themselves  to  the  Christians  ;  and  whatever  show  of 
sanctity  may  then  have  been  assumed,  we  may  well 
suppose  there  has  not  been  much  of  the  reality.  Long 
may  it  boast  of  such  members,  and  while  its  brief  life 
lasts  make  continually  such  converts  from  us.  As  to  the 
amazing  pretences  they  make  of  their  benevolence  in 
the  care  of  the  poor,  and  even  of  our  poor,  doing  more 
offices  of  kindness  toward  them  —  so  it  is  affirmed  — 
than  we  ourselves  —  who  does  not  see  the  motive  that 
prompts  so  much  charity,  in  the  good  opinion  they  build 
up  for  themselves  in  those  whom  they  have  so  much  o- 
bliged,  and  who  cannot  in  decency  do  less  afterward 
than  oblige  them  in  turn,  by  joining  their  superstitions 
—  superstitions  of  which  they  know  nothing  before 
they  adopt  them,  and  as  little  afterward. 

'  But  I  will  not,  O  Emperor,  weary  out  your  patience 

VOL.  II. 


174  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N 

again —  already  so  long  tried  —  and  will  only  say,  that 
the  fate  which  has  all  along  and  everywhere  befallen 
these  people,  might  well  warn  them  that  they  are  objects 
of  the  anger  rather  than  the  favor  and  love  of  the  Lord 
of  Heaven,  of  which  they  so  confidently  make  their 
boast.  For  if  he  loved  them  would  he  leave  them  eve 
rywhere  so  to  the  rage  and  destruction  of  their  enemies 
—  to  be  reviled,  trodden  upon,  and  despised,  all  over  the 
earth  ?  If  these  be  the  signs  of  love,  what  are  those  of 
hate  ?  And  can  it  be  that  he,  their  Lord  of  Heaven, 
hath  in  store  for  them  a  world  of  bliss  beyond  this  life, 
who  gives  them  here  on  earth  scarce  the  sordid  shelter 
of  a  cabin  ?  In  truth,  they  seem  to  be  a  community 
living  upon  their  imaginations.  They  fancy  themselves 
favorites  of  Heaven  —  though  all  the  world  thinks  oth 
erwise.  They  fancy  themselves  the  greatest  benefactors 
the  world  has  ever  seen,  while  they  are  the  only  ones 
who  think  so.  They  have  nothing  here  but  persecu 
tion,  contempt,  and  hatred,  and  yet  are  anticipating  a 
more  glorious  Elysium  than  the  greatest  and  best  of 
earth  have  ever  dared  to  hope  for.  We  cannot  but  hope 
they  maybe  at  sometime  the  riddle  to  themselves  which 
they  are  to  us.  This  is  a  benevolent  wish,  for  their  en 
tertainment  would  be  great.' 

When  he  had  ended,  and  almost  before,  many  voices 
were  heard  of  those  who  wished  to  speak,  and  Probus 
rose  in  his  place  to  reply  to  what  had  fallen  from  the 
philosopher,  but  all  were  alike  silenced  by  the  loud  and 
stern  command  of  Aurelian,  who,  evidently  weary  and 
impatient  of  further  audience  of  what  he  was  so  little 
willing  to  hear  at  all,  cried  out,  saying, 

*  The  Christians,  Romans,  have  now  been  heard,  as 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  175 

ihey  desired,  by  one  whom  they  themselves  appointed  to 
set  forth  their  doctrine.  This  is  no  school  for  the  dispu 
tations  of  sophists  or  philosophers  or  fanatics.  Let  Ro 
mans  and  Christians  alike  withdraw.' 

Whereupon,  without  further  words  or  delay,  the  as 
sembly  broke  up. 


It  was  not  difficult  to  see  that  the  statements  and  rea 
sonings  of  Probus  had  fallen  upon  many  who  heard 
them  with  equal  surprise  and  delight.  Every  word  that 
he  uttered  was  heard  with  an  eager  attention  I  never  be 
fore  saw  equaled.  I  have  omitted  the  greater  part  of 
what  he  said,  especially  where  he  went  with  minuteness 
into  an  account  of  the  history,  doctrine,  and  precept  of 
our  faith,  knowing  it  to  be  too  familiar  to  you  to  make 
it  desirable  to  have  it  repeated. 

It  was  in  part  at  least  owing  to  an  unwillingness  to 
allow  Probus  again  to  address  that  audience,  represent 
ing  all  the  rank  and  learning  of  Rome,  that  the  Empe 
ror  so  hastily  dissolved  the  assembly.  Whatever  effect 
the  hearing  of  Probus  may  have  upon  him  or  upon  us, 
there  is  reason  to  believe  that  its  effects  will  be  deep  and 
abiding  upon  the  higher  classes  of  our  inhabitants. 
They  then  heard  what  they  never  heard  before  —  a  full 
and  an  honest  account  of  what  Christianity  is  ;  and, 
from  what  I  have  already  been  informed,  and  gathered 
indeed  from  my  own  observation  at  the  time,  they  now 
regard  it  with  very  different  sentiments. 

When,  late  in  the  evening  of  this  day,  we  conversed 
of  its  events,  Probus  being  seated  with  us,  we  indulged 
both  in  those  cheering  and  desponding  thoughts  which 


176  ATI  R  ELIAN. 

seem  to  be  strangely  mingled  together  in  our  present 
calamities. 

'  No  opinion,'  said  Julia,  '  has  been  more  strongly 
confirmed  within  me  by  this  audience  before  Aurelian, 
than  this,  that  it  has  been  of  most  auspicious  influence 
upon  our  faith.  Not  that  some  have  not  been  filled 
with  a  bitterer  spirit  than  before  ;  but  that  more  have 
been  favorably  inclined  toward  us  by  the  disclosures, 
Probus,  which  you  made  ;  and  whether  they  become 
Christians  or  not  eventually,  they  will  be  far  more 
ready  to  defend  us  in  our  claim  for  the  common  rights 
of  citizens.  Marcellinus,  who  sat  near  me,  was  of  this 
number.  He  expressed  frequently,  in  most  emphatic 
terms,  his  surprise  at  what  he  heard,  which,  he  said,  he 
was  constrained  to  admit  as  true  and  fair  statements, 
seeing  they  were  supported  and  corroborated  by  my  and 
your  presence  and  silence.  At  the  close  he  declared 
his  purpose  to  procure  the  gospels  for  his  perusal.' 

c  And  yet,'  said  I,  '  the  late  consul  Capitolinus,  who 
was  at  my  side,  and  whose  clear  arid  intelligent  mind 
is  hardly  equaled  here  in  Rome,  was  confirmed  —  even 
as  Porphyrius  was,  or  pretended  to  be  —  in  all  his  pre 
vious  unfavorable  impressions.  He  did  not  disguise  his 
opinion,  but  freely  said,  that  in  his  judgment  the  relig 
ion  ought  to  be  suppressed,  and  that,  though  he  should 
by  no  means  defend  any  measures  like  those  which  he 
understood  Aurelian  had  resolved  to  put  in  force,  he 
should  advocate  such  action  in  regard  to  it,  as  could 
not  fail  to  expel  it  from  the  empire  in  no  very  grea, 
number  of  years.' 

*  I  could  observe,'  added  Probus,  c  the  same  difference? 
of  feeling  and  judgment  all  over  the  surface  of  that  sea 


AIT  R  E  LI  A  N  .  177 

of  faces.  But  if  I  should  express  my  belief  as  to  the 
proportion  of  friends  and  enemies  there  present,  I  should 
not  hesitate  to  say — and  that  I  am  sure  without  any 
imposition  upon  my  own  credulity  —  that  the  greater 
part  by  far  were  upon  our  side — not  in  faith  as  you 
may  suppose  —  but  in  that  good  opinion  of  us,  and  of 
the  tendencies  of  our  doctrine  and  the  value  of  our  ser 
vices,  that  is  very  near  it,  and  is  better  than  the  public 
profession  of  Christ  of  many  others.' 

'  It  will  be  a  long  time,  I  am  persuaded,'  said  Julia, 
1  before  the  truths  received  then  into  many  minds  will 
cease  to  operate  in  our  behalf.  But  what  think  you 
was  the  feeling  of  Aurelian  ?  His  countenance  was 
hidden  from  me  —  yet  that  would  reveal  not  much.  It 
is  immovable  at  those  times,  when  he  is  deeply  stirrred, 
or  has  any  motive  to  conceal  his  sentiments.' 

*  I  cannot  believe,'  replied  Probus,  '  that  any  impres 
sion,  such  as  we  could  wish,  was  made  upon  that  hard 
and  cruel  heart.  Not  the  brazen  statue,  against  the  base 
of  which  he  leaned,  stood  in  its  place  more  dead  to  what 
ever  it  was  that  came  from  my  lips  than  he.  He  has 
not  been  moved,  we  may  well  believe,  to  change  any  of 
his  designs.  Whatever  yesterday  it  was  in  his  intent  to 
do,  he  will  accomplish  tomorrow.  I  do  not  believe  we 
have  anything  to  hope  at  his  hands.' 

'  Alas,  Lucius  ! '  said  Julia,  '  that  our  faith  in  Christ, 
and  our  interest  and  concern  for  its  progress  in  Rome, 
should  after  all  come  to  this.  How  happy  was  I  in  Sy 
ria,  with  this  belief  as  my  bosom  companion  and  friend  ; 
and  free,  too,  to  speak  of  it,  to  any  and  to  all.  How 
needless  is  all  the  misery  which  this  rude,  unlettered 
tyrant  is  about  to  inflict !  How  happily  for  all,  would 


178  ATT  RE  Ll  AN. 

things  take  their  course  even  here,  might  they  but  be 
left  to  run  in  those  natural  channels  which  would  reveal 
themselves,  and  which  would  then  conduct  to  those  ends 
which  the  Divine  Providence  has  proposed.  But  man 
wickedly  interposes  ;  and  a  misery  is  inflicted,  which 
otherwise  would  have  never  fallen  upon  us,  and  which 
in  the  counsels  of  God  was  never  designed.  What  now 
think  you,  Probus,  will  be  the  event  ? ' 

'  I  cannot  doubt,'  he  replied,  '  that  tomorrow  will  wit 
ness  all  that  report  has  already  spread  abroad  as  the 
purpose  of  Aurelian.  Urged  on  by  both  Fronto  and 
Varus,  he  will  not  pause  in  his  course.  Rome,  ere  the 
Ides,  will  swim  in  Christian  blood.  I  see  not  whence 
deliverance  is  to  come.  Miracle  alone  could  save  us  ; 
and  miracle  has  long  since  ceased  to  be  the  order  of 
Providence.  Having  provided  for  us  this  immense  in 
strument  of  moral  reform  in  the  authority  and  doctrine 
of  Christ,  we  are  now  left,  as  doubtless  it  is  on  the 
whole  best  for  our  character  and  our  virtues  we  should 
be,  to  our  own  unassisted  strength,  to  combat  with  all 
the  evils  that  may  assail  us,  both  from  without  and 
within.  For  myself,  I  can  meet  this  tempest  without  a 
thought  of  reluctance  or  dread.  I  am  a  solitary  man  ; 
having  neither  child  nor  relative  to  mourn  my  loss  ;  I 
have  friends  indeed,  whom  I  love,  and  from  whom  I 
would  not  willingly  part  ;  but,  if  any  considerable  pur 
pose  is  to  be  gained  by  my  death  to  that  cause  for 
which  I  have  lived,  neither  I  nor  they  can  lament  that 
it  should  occur.  Under  these  convictions  as  to  my  own 
fate  —  and  that  of  all,  must  I  say  and  believe  ?  no  ;  I 
cannot,  will  not,  believe  that  humanity  has  taken  its  final 
departure  from  the  bosom  of  Aurelian  —  I  turn  to  one 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  17£ 

bright  spot,  and  there  my  thoughts  dwell,  and  there  my 
hopes  gather  strength,  and  that  is  here  where  you,  Piso, 
and  you,  lady,  will  still  dwell,  too  high  for  the  aim  of 
the  imperial  murderer  to  reach.  Here  I  shall  believe 
will  there  be  an  asylum  for  many  a  wearied  spirit,  a 
safe  refuge  from  the  sharp  pelting  of  the  storm  without. 
And  when  a  calm  shall  come  again,  from  beneath  this 
roof,  as  once  from  the  ark  of  God,  shall  there  go  forth 
those  who  shall  again  people  the  waste-places  of  the 
churc'h,  and  change  the  wilderness  of  death  into  a  fruit 
ful  garden  full  of  the  plants  of  Heaven.' 

*  That  it  is  the  present  purpose  of  Aurelian  to  spare 
me,'  I  answered,  *  whatever  provocation  I  may  give  him, 
I  fully  believe.  He  is  true ;  and  his  word  to  that  end, 
with  no  wish  expressed  on  my  part,  has  been  given. 
But  do  not  suppose  that  in  that  direction  at  least  he 
may  not  change  his  purpose.  Superstitiousfy  mad  as 
he  now  is,  a  mere  plaything  too  in  the  bloody  hands  of 
Pronto  —  and  nothing  can  well  be  esteemed  as  more  in 
secure  than  even  my  life,  privileged  and  secure  as  it 
may  seem.  If  it  should  occur  to  him,  in  his  day  or  his 
night  visions  and  dreams,  that  I,  more  than  others, 
should  be  an  acceptable  offering  to  his  god,  my  life  would 
be  to  him  but  that  of  an  insect  buzzing  around  his  ear  ; 
and  being  dead  by  a  blow,  he  would  miss  me  no  more. 
Still,  let  the  mercy  that  is  vouchsafed,  whether  great  or 
little,  be  gratefully  confessed.' 

You  then  see,  Fausta,  the  position  in  which  your  old 
friends  now  stand  here  in  Rome.  Who  could  have  be 
lieved,  when  we  talked  over  our  dangers  in  Palmyra's 
that  greater  and  more  dreadful  still  awaited  us  in  our 
own  home.  It  has  come  upon  us  with  such  sudden- 


180  A  t  R  B  L  I  A  N  . 

ness  that  we  can  scarce  believe  it  ourselves.  Yet  are 
we  prepared,  with  an  even  mind  and  a  trusting  faith,  for 
whatever  may  betide. 

It  is  happy  for  me,  and  for  Julia,  that  our  religion 
has  fixed  within  us  so  firm  a  belief  in  a  superintending 
Providence  —  who  orders  not  only  the  greatest  but  the 
least  events  of  life,  who  is  as  much  concerned  for  the 
happiness  and  the  moral  welfare  of  the  humblest  indi 
vidual,  as  he  is  for  the  orderly  movement  of  a  world  — 
that  wre  sit  down  under  the  shadows  that  overhang  us, 
perfectly  convinced  that  some  end  of  good  to  the  church 
or  the  world  is  to  be  achieved  through  these  convul 
sions,  greater  than  could  have  been  achieved  in  any 
other  way.  The  Supreme  Ruler,  we  believe,  is  infin 
itely  wise  and  infinitely  good.  But  he  would  be  neith 
er,  if  unnecessary  suffering  were  meted  out  to  his  crea 
tures.  This  suffering  then  is  not  unnecessary.  But 
through  it,  in  ways  which  our  sight  now  is  not  piercing 
enough  to  discern  —  but  may  hereafter  be  —  shall  a 
blessing  redound  both  to  the  individuals  concerned,  to 
the  present  generation,  and  a  remote  posterity,  which 
could  not  otherwise  have  been  secured.  This  we  must 
believe ;  or  we  must  renounce  all  belief. 

Forget  not  to  remember  us  with  affection  to  Gracchus 
and  Calpurnius. 


I  also  was  present  at  the  hearing  of  Probus.  But  of 
that  I  need  say  nothing ;  Piso  having  so  fully  written 
concerning  it  to  the  daughter  of  Gracchus. 

Early  on  the  following  day  I  was  at  the  Gardens  of 


AU  RE  LI  A  N  .  181 

Sa'last,  where  I  was  present  both  with  the  Emperor 
nnd  Livia,  and  Arith  the  Emperor  and  Pronto,  and 
heard  conversations  which  I  here  record. 

When  I  entered  the  apartment,  in  which  it  was  cus 
tomary  for  the  Empress  to  sit  at  this  time  of  the  day,  I 
found  her  there  engaged  upon  her  embroidery,  while 
the  Emperor  paced  back  and  forth,  his  arms  crossed  be 
hind  him,  and  care  and  anxiety  marked  upon  his  coun 
tenance.  Livia,  though  she  sat  quietly  at  her  work, 
seemed  ill  at  ease,  and  as  if  some  thought  were  busy 
within,  to  which  she  would  gladly  give  utterance.  She 
was  evidently  relieved  by  my  entrance,  and  immediately 
made  her  usual  inquiries  after  the  health  of  the  Queen, 
in  which  Aurelian  joined  her. 

Aurelian  then   turned  to  me  and  said, 

*  I  saw  you  yesterday  at  the  Palatine,  Nicomachus ; 
what  thought  you  of  the  Christian's  defence  ?  ' 

'  It  did  not  convert  me  to  his  faith  — ' 
4  Neither,  by  the  gods  !  did  it  me,'  quickly  interrup 
ted  Aurelian. 

'  But,'  I  went  on, '  it  seemed  to  show  good  cause  why 
they  should  not  be  harshly  or  cruelly  dealt  with.  He 
proved  them  to  be  a  harmless  people,  if  not  positively 
profitable  to  the  state.' 

*  I  do  not  see  that,'  replied  the  Emperor.     *  It  is  im 
possible  they  should  be  harmless  who  sap  the  founda 
tions  of  religion  ;  it  is  impossible  they  should  be  profit 
able  who  seduce  from  their  allegiance  the  good  subjects 
of  the  empire  ;  and  this  religion  of  the  Christians  does 
both.' 

* 1  agree  that  it  is  so,'  I  rejoined,  *  if  it  is  to  be  as 
16        VOL.  n. 


182  ACRE L IAN. 

sumed  in  the  controversy  that  the  prevailing  religion  of 
the  Romans  is  a  perfect  one,  and  that  any  addition  or 
alteration  is  necessarily  an  evil.  That  seems  to  oe  ihe 
position  of  Porphyrius  and  others.  But  to  that  1  can 
by  no  means  assent.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  religions 
of  mankind  are  susceptible  of  improvement  as  govern 
ments  are,  and  other  like  institutions ;  that  what  may 
be  perfectly  well  suited  to  a  nation  in  one  stage  of  its 
growth,  may  be  very  ill  adapted  to  another  ;  that  the 
gods  in  their  providence  accordingly  design  that  one 
form  of  religious  worship  and  belief  should  in  successive 
ages  be  superseded  by  others,  which  shall  be  more  ex 
actly  suited  to  their  larger  growth,  and  more  urgent  and 
very  different  necessities.  The  religion  of  the  early 
days  of  Rome  was  perhaps  all  that  so  rude  a  people  were 
capable  of  comprehending  —  all  that  they  wanted.  It 
worked  well  for  them,  and  you  have  reason  for  gratitude 
that  it  was  bestowed  upon  them,  and  has  conferred  so 
great  benefits  upon  the  preceding  centuries.  But  the 
light  of  the  sun  is  not  clearer  than  it  is  that,  for  this 
present  passing  age,  that  religion  is  stark  naught.' 

The  Emperor  frowned,  and  stood  still  in  his  walk, 
looking  sternly  upon  me  ;  but  I  heeded  him  not. 

4  Most,  of  any  intelligence  and  reflection,'  I  continued, 
4  spurn  it  away  from  them  as  fit  but  for  children  and 
slaves.  Must  they  then  be  without  any  principle  of 
this  kind  ?  Is  it  safe  for  a  community  to  grow  up  with 
out  faith  in  a  superintending  power,  from  whom  they 
come,  to  whom  they  are  responsible  ?  I  think  not.  In 
any  such  community  —  and  Rome  is  becoming  such  a 
one  —  the  elements  of  disruption,  anarchy,  and  ruin, 
are  there  at  work,  and  will  overthrow  it.  A  society  of 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  183 

atheists  is  a  contradiction  in  terms.  Atheists  may  live 
alone,  but  not  together.  Will  you  compel  your  subjects 
to  become  such  ?  If  a  part  remain  true  to  the  ancient 
faith,  and  find  it  to  be  sufficient,  will  you  deny  to  the 
other  part  the  faith  which  they  crave,  and  which  would 
be  sufficient  for  them  ?  I  doubt  if  that  were  according 
to  the  dictates  of  wisdom  and  philosophy.  And  how 
know  you,  Aurelian,  that  this  religion  of  Christ  may 
not  be  the  very  principle  which,  and  which  alone,  may 
save  your  people  from  atheism,  and  your  empire  from 
the  ruin  that  would  bring  along  in  its  train  ?  * 

'  I  cannot  deny,'  said  the  Emperor  in  reply,  '  that 
there  is  some  sense  and  apparent  truth  in  what  you  have 
said.  But  to  me  it  is  shadowy  and  intangible.  It  is 
the  speculation  of  that  curious  class  among  men,  who, 
never  satisfied  with  what  exists,  are  always  desiring 
some  new  forms  of  truth,  in  religion,  in  government, 
and  all  subjects  of  that  nature.  I  could  feel  no  more 
certain  of  going  or  doing  right  by  comforming  to  their 
theories,  than  I  feel  now  in  adhering  to  what  is  already 
established.  Nay,  I  can  see  safety  nowhere  but  in 
what  already  is.  There  is  the  only  certainty.  Sup 
pose  some  enthusiast  in  matters  of  government  were  to 
propose  his  system,  by  which  the  present  established 
institutions  were  all  to  be  abandoned  and  new  ones  set 
up,  should  I  permit  him  to  go  freely  among  the  people, 
puzzling  their  heads  with  what  it  is  impossible  they 
should  understand,  and  by  his  sophistries  alienating  them 
from  their  venerable  parent  ?  Not  so,  by  Hercules  !  I 
should  ill  deserve  my  office  of  supreme  guardian  of 
the  honor  and  liberties  of  Rome,  did  I  not  mew  him  up 


184  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N. 

in  the  Fabrician  dungeons,  or  send   him  lower  still  to 
the  Stygian  shades.' 

*  But,'  said  Li  via,  who  had  seemed  anxious  to  speak, 
1  though  it  may  be  right,  and  best  for  the  interests  of 
Rome,  to  suppress  this  new  worship,  yet  why,  Aurelian, 
need  it  be  done  at  such  expense  of  life  ?     Can  no  way 
be  devised  by  which  the  professors  of  this  faith  shall  be 
banished,  for  instance,  the  realm,  and  no  new  teachers  of 
it  permitted  to  enter  it  afterward  but  at  the  risk  of  life,  or 
some  other  appointed  penalty  ?     Sure  I  am,  from  what  I 
heard  from  the  Christian  Probus,  and  what  I  have  heard 
so  often  from  the  lips  of  Julia,  this  people  cannot  be  the 
sore  in  the  body  of  the  state  which  Fronto  represents 
them.' 

*  I   cannot,   Livia,'   replied   the    Emperor, '  refuse    to 
obey  what  to  me  have  been  warnings  from  the  gods.' 

*  But  may   not    the   heavenly  signs   have   been  read 
amiss  ?  '  rejoined  Livia. 

'  There  is  no  truth  in  augury,  if  my  duty  be  not 
where  I  have  placed  it,'  answered  Aurelian. 

*  And  perhaps,  Aurelian,'  said  the  Empress,  *  there  is 
none.     I  have  heard  that  the  priests  of  the  temples  play 
many  a  trick  upon  their  devout  worshippers.' 

'  Livia,  it  has  doubtless  been  so ;  but  you  would  not 
believe  that  Fronto  has  trifled  with  Aurelian  ?  ' 

'  I  believe  Fronto  capable  of  any  crime  by  which  the 
gods  may  be  served.  Have  you  not  heard,  Aurelian 
what  fell  from  the  dying  Christian's  lips  ? ' 

4 1  have,  Livia ;  and  have  cast  it  from  me  as  at  best 
the  coinage  of  a  moonstruck  mountebank.  Shall  the 
word  of  such  a  one  as  Macer  the  Christian,  unseat  my 


AURELIAN. 

trust  in  such  a  one  as  Pronto  ?  That  were  not  rea 
sonable,  Livia.' 

'  Then,  Aurelian,  if  not  for  any  reason  that  I  can 
give,  for  the  love  you  bear  me,  withhold  your  hand 
from  this  innocent  people.  You  have  often  asked  me 
to  crave  somewhat  which  it  would  be  hard  for  you  to 
grant,  that  you  might  show  how  near  you  hold  me. 
Grant  me  this  favor,  and  it  shall  be  more  to  me  than  if 
you  gave  me  the  one  half  the  empire.' 

The  Emperor's  stern  countenance  relaxed,  and  wore 
for  a  moment  that  softened  expression,  accompanied 
by  a  smile,  that  on  his  face  might  be  be  termed  beau 
tiful.  He  was  moved  by  the  unaffected  warmth  and 
winning  grace  with  which  those  words  were  spoken  by 
Livia.  But  he  only  said, 

*  I  love  thee,  Livia,  as  thou  knowest,  —  but  not  so 
well  as  Rome  or  the  gods.' 

1 1  would  not,  Aurelian,'  replied  the  Empress, «  that 
love  of  me  should  draw  you  away  from  what  you  owe 
to  Rome  —  from  what,  is  the  clear  path  of  a  monarch's 
duty;  but  this  seems  at  best  a  doubtful  case.  They 
who  are  equally  Roman  in  their  blood  differ  here.  It 
is  not  wrong  to  ask  you,  for  my  sake,  to  lean  to  the  side 
of  mercy.' 

*  You  are  never  wrong,  Livia.     And  were  it  only 
right  to  —  ' 

'  But  are  you  not,  Aurelian,  always  sure  of  being  right 
m  being  merciful  ?  Can  it  ever  afterward  repent  you 
that  you  drew  back  from  the  shedding  of  blood  ?  ' 

'  It  is  called  mercy,  Livia,  when  he  who  has  the  power 
spares  the  culprit,  forgives  the  offence,  and  sends  him 
VOL.  n. 


186  A  UR  E  LI  A  N. 

from  the  gibbet  or  the  cross  back  to  his  weeping  friends. 
The  crowds  throw  up  their  caps  and  shout  as  for  some 
great  and  good  deliverance.  But  the  mercy  that  returns 
upon  the  world  a  villain,  whose  crimes  had  richly  earned 
for  him  his  death,  is  hardly  a  doubtful  virtue.  Though, 
as  is  well  known,  I  am  not  famed  for  mercy,  yet  were  it 
clear  to  me  what  in  this  case  were  the  truest  mercy  — 
for  the  pleasure,  Livia,  of  pleasuring  thee,  I  would  be 
merciful.  But  I  should  not  agree  with  thee  in  what  is 
mercy.  It  were  no  mercy  to  Rome,  as  I  judge,  to  spare 
these  Christians,  whatever  the  grace  might  be  to  them. 
Punishment  is  often  mercy.  In  destroying  these 
wretches  I  am  merciful  both  to  Rome  and  to  the  world, 
and  shall  look  to  have  their  thanks.' 

*  There  comes,  Aurelian.'  said  Livia,  rising,  '  thy  evil 
genius  —  thy  ill-possessing  demon  —  who  has  so  changed 
the  kindly  current  of  thy  blood.     I  would  that  he,  who 
so  loves  the  gods,  were  with  them.     I  cannot  wait  him.' 

With  these  words  Livia  rose  and  left  the  apartment, 
just  as  Pronto  entered  in  another  direction. 

'  Welcome,  Pronto  !  *  said  Aurelian.  *  How  thrive 
our  affairs  ?' 

*  As  we  could  wish,  great  Emperor.     The  city   with 
us,  and  the  gods  with  us,  —  we  cannot  but  prosper.     A 
few  days  will  see  great  changes.' 

'  How  turns  out  the  tale  of  Curio  ?  What  find  you 
to  be  the  truth  ?  Are  the  Christians  here,  or  are  they 
fled?' 

<  His  tale  was  partly  false  and  partly  true.  More  are 
fled  than  Piso  or  the  Christians  will  allow ;  but  doubt- 
Jess  the  greater  part,  by  large  odds,  remain.' 

*  That  is  well.     Then  for  the  other  side  of  this  great 


A  II  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  1S7 

Juty.  Is  thine  own  house  purged?  Is  the  temple, 
new  and  of  milk-white  marble,  now  as  clean  and  white 
in  its  priesthood  ?  Have  those  young  sots  and  pimps 
yet  atoned  for  their  foul  impieties  ? ' 

'  They  have,'  replied  Pronto.  '  They  have  been  dealt 
with  ;  and  their  carcases  swinging  and  bleaching  in  the 
wind  will  long  serve  I  trust  to  keep  us  sweet.  The 
temple,  I  now  may  believe,  is  thoroughly  swept.' 

*  And  how  is  it,  Pronto,  with  the  rest  ? ' 

'  The  work  goes  on.  Your  messengers  are  abroad ; 
and  it  will  be  neither  for  want  of  power,  will,  nor  zeal, 
if  from  this  time  Hellenism  stands  not  before  the  world 
as  beautiful  in  her  purity  as  she  is  venerable  in  years 
and  truth.' 

'  The  gods  be  praised  that  I  have  been  stirred  up  to 
this  !  When  this  double  duty  shall  be  done,  Hellenism 
reformed,  and  her  enemy  extinct,  then  may  I  say  that 
life  has  not  been  spent  for  naught.  But  meanwhile, 
Pronto,  the  army  needs  me.  All  is  prepared,  and  letters 
urge  me  on.  To-morrow  I  would  start  for  Thrace.  Yet 
it  cannot  be  so  soon.' 

*  No,'  said  the    priest.     *  Rome  will  need  you  more 
than  Thrace,  till  the  edicts  have  been  published,  and  the 
work  well  begun.     Then,  Aurelian,  may  it  be  safely  en 
trusted,  so  far  as  zeal  and  industry  shall  serve,  to  those 
behind.' 

*  I  believe  it,  Pronto.     I  see  myself  doubly  reflected 
in  thee  :  and  almost  so  in  Varus.     The  Christians,  were 
I  gone,  would  have  four  Aurelians  for  one.     Well,  let 
us  rejoice  that  piety  is  not  dead.     The    sacrifice    this 
morning   was  propitious.     I   feel   its  power   in   every 
thought  and  movement.' 


188  AURE  LIAN  . 

'  But  while  all  things  else  seem  propitious,  Aurelian, 
one  keeps  yet  a  dark  and  threatening  aspect.' 

1  What  mean  you  ?  ' 

'  Piso  ! .—  ' 

'  Pronto,  I  have  in  that  made  known  my  will,  and 
more  than  once.  Why  again  dispute  it  ? ' 

*  I  know  no  will,  great  Ca3sar,  that  may  rightly  cross 
or  surmount  that  of  the   gods.     They,  to  me,  are  su 
preme,  not  Aurelian.' 

Aurelian  moved  from  the  priest,  and  paced  the  room. 

'  I  see  not,  Pronto,  with  such  plainness  the  will  of 
Heaven  in  this.' 

'  'Tis  hard  to  see  the  divine  will,  when  the  human 
will  and  human  affections  are  so  strong.' 

'  My  aim  is  to  please  the  gods  in  all  things,'  replied 
the  Emperor. 

'  Love  too,  Aurelian,  blinds  the  eye,  and  softening  the 
heart  toward  our  fellow,  hardens  it  toward  the  gods.' 
This  he  uttered  with  a  strange  significancy. 

'  I  think,  Pronto,  mine  has  been  all  too  hard  toward 
man,  if  it  were  truly  charged.  At  least,  of  late,  the 
gods  can  have  no  ground  of  blame.' 

4  Rome,'  replied  the  priest,  '  is  not  slow  to  see  and 
praise  the  zeal  that  is  now  crowning  her  seven  hills  with 
a  greater  glory  than  ever  yet  has  rested  on  them.  Let 
her  see  that  her  great  son  can  finish  what  has  been  so 
well  begun.' 

'  Pronto,  I  say  it,  but  I  say  it  with  some  inward  pain, 
that  were  it  plain  the  will  of  the  gods  were  so  — ' 

*  Piso  should  die  ! '  eagerly  interrupted  the  priest. 

*  I  will  not  say  it  yet.  Pronto.' 

'  I  see  not  why  Aurelian  should  stagger  at  it      If  the 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  l&y 

will  of  the  gods  is  in  this  whole  enterprise ;  if  they  will 
that  these  hundreds  and  thousands,  these  crowds  of 
young  and  old,  little  children  and  tender  youth,  should 
all  perish,  that  posterity  by  such  sacrifice  now  in  the 
beginning  may  be  delivered  from  the  curse  that  were 
else  entailed  upon  them,  then  who  can  doubt,  to  whom 
truth  is  the  chief  thing,  that  they  will,  nay,  and  ordain 
in  their  sacred  breasts,  that  he  who  is  their  chief  and 
head,  about  whom  others  cluster,  from  whose  station 
and  power  they  daily  draw  fresh  supplies  of  courage, 
should  perish  too  ;  nay,  that  he  should  be  the  first  great 
offering,  that  so,  the  multitudes  who  stay  their  weak 
faith  on  him,  may,  on  his  loss,  turn  again  unharmed  to 
their  ancient  faith.  That  too,  were  the  truest  mercy.' 

'  There  may  be  something  in  that,  Pronto.  Never 
theless,  I  do  not  yet  see  so  much  to  rest  upon  one  life. 
If  all  the  rest  were  dead,  and  but  one  alive,  and  he  Piso, 
I  see  not  but  the  work  were  done.' 

'  A  thousand  were  better  left,  Aurelian,  than  Piso 
and  the  lady  Julia  !  They  are  more  in  the  ears  and 
eyes  of  Rome  than  all  the  preachers  of  this  accursed 
tribe.  They  are  preaching,  not  on  their  holydays  to  a 
mob  of  beggarly  knaves,  men  and  women  dragged  up 
by  their  hot  and  zealous  caterers  from  the  lanes  and 
kennels  of  the  city,  within  the  walls  of  their  filthy  syn 
agogues,  but  they  preach  every  day,  to  the  very  princes 
and  nobles  of  the  state  —  at  the  capitol  to  the  Senate  — 
here  in  thy  palaces  to  all  the  greatest  and  best  of  Rome 
and,  by  the  gods  !  as  I  believe,  make  more  converts  to 
their  impieties  than  all  the  army  of  their  atheisti 
cal  priesthood.  Upon  Probus,  Piso,  and  Julia,  hang 
the  Christians  of  Rome.  Hew  them  away,  and  the 


1 90  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

branches  die.     Probus,  ere  to-morrow's  sun  is  set,  feeds 
the  beasts  of  the  Flavian  —  then  — ' 

*  Hold,  Pronto !  I  will  no  more  of  it  now.     I  have, 
besides,  assured  Piso  of  his  safety.' 

'  There  is  no  virtue  like  that  of  those,  who,  having 
erred,  repent.' 

Aurelian  looked  for  the  moment  as  if  he  would  wil 
lingly  have  hurled  Pronto,  and  his  temple  after  him,  to 
Tartarus.  But  the  bold  man  heeded  him  not. 

'  Shall  I,'  he  continued,  '  say  what  it  is  that  thus  ties 
the  hands  of  the  conqueror  of  the  world  ? ' 

'  Say  what  thou  wilt.' 

*  Rome  says,  I  say  it  not  — but  Rome  says,  'tis  love.1 

*  What  mean  they  ?     I  take  you  not.     Love  ? ' 
'  Of  the  princess  Julia,  still  so  called.' 

A  deep  blush  burned  upon  the  cheek  of  Aurelian. 
He  paused  a  moment,  as  if  for  some  storm  within  to 
subside.  He  then  said,  in  his  deep  tone,  that  indicates 
the  presence  of  the  whole  soul  —  but  without  passion — 

'  Pronto,  'tis  partly  true  —  truer  than  I  wish  it  were. 
When  in  Syria  my  eye  first  beheld  her,  I  loved  her  — 
as  I  never  loved  before,  and  never  shall  again.  But  not 
for  the  Emperor  of  the  world  would  she  part  from  young 
Piso.  I  sued,  as  man  never  sued  before,  but  all  in  vain. 
Her  image  still  haunts  the  chambers  of  my  brain  ;  yet, 
with  truth  do  I  say  it,  but  as  some  pure  vision  sent  from 
the  gods.  I  confess,  Pronto,  it  is  she  who  stands  be 
tween  me  and  the  will  of  Heaven.  I  know  not  what 
force,  but  that  of  all  the  gods,  could  make  me  harm  her. 
To  no  other  ear  has  this  ever  been  revealed.  She  is  to 
me  god  and  goddess.' 

'  Now,  Aurelian,  that  thou  has  spoken  in  the  fullness 


AURELIAN.  191 

of  thy  heart,  do  I  hold  thee  redeemed  from  the  invisible 
tyrant.  In  our  own  hearts  we  sin  and  err,  as  we  dare 
not  when  the  covering  is  off,  and  others  can  look  in  and 
see  how  weak  we  are.  Thou  canst  not,  great  Csesar, 
for  this  fondness  forget  and  put  far  from  thee  the  vision 
of  thy  mother,  whom,  in  dreams  or  in  substantial  shape, 
the  gods  sent  down  to  revive  thy  fainting  zeal  !  Let  it 
not  be  that  that  call  shall  have  been  in  vain.' 

*  Pronto,  urge  now  no  more.     Hast  thou  seen  Varus  ?' 
'I  have.' 

«  Are  the  edicts  ready  ? ' 

*  They  are.' 

4  Again  then  at  the  hour  of  noon  let  them  glare  forth 
upon  the  enemies  of  Rome  from  the  columns  of  the 
capitol.  Let  Varus  be  so  instructed.  Now  I  would  be 
alone.' 

Whereupon  the  priest  withdrew,  and  I  also  rose  from 
where  I  had  sat,  to  take  my  leave,  when  the  Emperor 
said, 

1  This  seems  harsh  to  thee,  Nicomachus  ? ' 

*  I  cannot  but  pray  the  gods,'  I  said,  '  to  change  the 
mind  of  Aurelian  !  ' 

*  They  have  made  his  mind  what  it  is,  Nicomachus.' 
'  Not  they,'  I  said,  '  but  Pronto.' 

'  But,'  he  quickly  added,  '  the  gods  made  Pronto,  and 
have  put  their  mind  in  him,  or  it  has  never  been  known 
on  earth.  You  know  not  the  worth,  Greek,  of  this 
man.  Had  Rome  possessed  such  a  one  two  hundred 
years  ago,  this  work  had  not  now  to  be  done.' 

Saying  which,  he  withdrew  into  his  inner  apartment, 
and  I  sought  again  the  presence  of  Livia. 


AURELIAN. 

LETTER    XI. 

FROM     PISO     TO     FAUSTA. 


A  DAY  has  passed,  Fausta,  since  the  hearing  of 
Probus,  and  I  hasten  to  inform  you  of  its  events. 

But,  first  of  all,  before  I  enter  upon  the  dark  chapter 
of  our  calamities,  let  me  cheer  you  and  myself  by  dwel 
ling  a  moment  upon  one  bright  and  sunny  spot.  Early 
in  the  day  we  were  informed  that  Isaac  was  desirous  to 
see  us.  He  was  at  once  admitted.  As  he  entered,  it 
was  easy  to  see  that  some  great  good  fortune  had  be 
fallen  him.  His  face  shone  through  the  effect  of  some 
inward  joy,  and  his  eyes  sparkled  in  their  deep  sockets 
like  burning  tapers.  When  our  customary  salutations 
and  inquiries  were  over,  Julia  said  to  him, 

'  I  think,  Isaac,  you  must  have  sold  a  jewel  this  morn 
ing  to  no  less  a  person  than  Aurelian,  if  the  face  may 
be  held  as  an  index  of  good  or  evil  fortune.' 

'  I  have  parted  with  no  jewel,  lady,'  he  replied,  '  but 
there  has  fallen  into  my  hands  a  diamond  of  inestimable 
value,  drawn  from  those  mines  of  the  Orient,  which  I 
may  say,  not  all  the  wealth  of  Aurelian  could  purchase 
of  me.  Whenever  I  shall  receive  such  permission,  it 
will  give  me  highest  delight  to  show  it  to  thee.' 

'  Only  a  single  jewel,  Isaac  ? '  said  Julia.  «  Is  it 
but  one  stone  that  so  transports  thee,  and  makes  thy 
face  that  of  a  young  man  ?' 

'  Lady,  to  confess  the  truth,  there  are  four —  four  liv- 


A  IT  RE  LI  AN.  193 

ing  stories  and  precious  —  more  precious  than  any  thai 
of  old  blazed  upon  the  breastplate  of  our  high-priest 
Princess,  I  have  come  to  tell  thee  and  Piso  what  none 
in  Rome  besides,  as  I  think,  would  care  to  know  —  and 
strange  it  is  that  you  Christians  should  be  those  whom 
i,  a  Jew,  most  love,  and  that  I,  an  old  and  worn-out  man, 
should  fill  any  space,  were  it  no  bigger  than  a  grain  of 
wheat,  in  your  regards  —  I  have  come  to  tell  you  what 
you  have  already  discovered,  that  Hagar  is  arrived  with 
the  young  Ishmael,  and  with  them  two  dark-eyed 
daughters  of  Israel,  who  are  as  welcome  as  the  others. 
There  is  not  now,  Piso,  within  the  walls  of  Rome  a 
dwelling  happier  than  mine.  Soon  as  leisure  and  incli 
nation  shall  serve,  come,  if  you  will  do  us  such  grace? 
to  the  street  Janus,  and  behold  our  contentment.  Sorry 
am  I  that  the  times  come  laden  to  you  with  so  many 
terrors.  Piso,'  continued  he,  in  a  more  earnest  tone, 
and  bending  toward  me,  '  rely  upon  the  word  of  one 
who  is  rarely  deceived,  and  who  now  tells  thee,  there 
is  a  sword  hanging  over  thy  head  !  Pronto  thirsts  for 
thy  life,  and  thine,  lady  !  and  Aurelian,  much  as  he 
may  love  you,  is,  as  we  have  already  seen,  not  proof 
against  the  violent  zeal  of  the  priest.  Come  to  the 
street  Janus,  and  I  will  warrant  you  safety  and  life. 
There  is  none  for  you  here  —  nor  in  Rome  —  if  Aurel- 
ian's  hounds  can  scent  you.' 

We  were  again  obliged  to  state,  with  all  the  force  we 
could  give  to  them,  the  reasons  which  bound  us  to  re 
main,  not  only  in  Rome,  but  in  our  own  dwelling,  and 
await  whatever  the  times  might  bring  forth.  He  was 
again  slow  to  be  convinced,  so  earnestly  does  he  desire 
17  VOL.  n. 


194  A  U  R  E  L  I  AN  . 

our  safety.  But  at  length  he  was  persuaded  that  he 
himself  would  take  the  same  course  were  he  called  up 
on  to  defend  the  religion  of  his  fathers.  He  then  de 
parted,  having  first  exacted  a  promise  that  we  would 
soon  see  his  new  family. 

Soon  as  Isaac  was  gone  I  sought  the  streets. 

Rome,  Fausta,  has  put  on  the  appearance  of  the  Sat 
urnalia.  Although  no  license  of  destruction  has  yet 
been  publicly  given,  the  whole  city  is  in  commotion  — 
the  lower  orders  noisy  and  turbulent,  as  if  they  had  al 
ready  received  their  commission  of  death.  Efforts  have 
been  made,  both  on  the  part  of  the  senate  and  that  of 
the  nobles  who  are  not  of  that  body,  joined  by  many  of 
all  classes,  to  arrest  the  Emperor  in  his  murderous  ca 
reer,  but  in  vain.  Not  the  Seven  Hills  are  more  firmly 
rooted  in  the  earth,  than  he  in  his  purposes  of  blood. 
This  is  well  known  abroad  ;  and  the  people  are  the 
more  emboldened  in  the  course  they  take.  They  know 
well  that  Aurelian  is  supreme  and  omnipotent  ;  that  no 
power  in  Rome  can  come  in  between  him  and  his  ob 
ject,  whatever  it  may  be  ;  and  that  they,  therefore, 
.uough  they  should  err  through  their  haste,  and  in  their 
/.eal  even  go  before  the  edicts,  would  find  in  him  a  le 
nient  judge.  No  Christian  was  accordingly  to  be  now 
seen  in  the  streets  —  for  nowhere  were  they  safe  from 
the  ferocious  language,  or  even  the  violent  assaults,  of 
the  mob.  These  cruel  executioners  I  found  all  along, 
wherever  I  moved,  standing  about  in  groups  as  if  impa 
tiently  awaiting  the  hour  of  noon,  or  else  gathered  about 
the  dwellings  of  well-known  Christians,  assailing  the 
buildings  with  stones,  and  the  ears  of  their  pent-up  in 
habitants  with  all  that  variety  of  imprecation  they  so 


AURE  LI  A  N  . 


195 


V' 

well  know  how  to  use.  It  was  almost  with  sensations 
of  guilt  that  I  walked  the  streets  of  Rome  in  safety, 
bearing  a  sort  of  charmed  life,  while  these  thousands  of 
my  friends  were  already  suffering  more  through  their 
horrible  anticipation,  than  they  would  when  they  should 
come  to  endure  the  reality.  But,  although  I  passed 
along  uninjured  by  actual  assault,  the  tongue  was  freely 
let  loose  upon  me,  and  promises  were  abundantly  lav 
ished  that,  before  many  days  were  gone,  not  even  the 
name  of  Piso,  nor  the  favor  of  Aurelian,  &hould  save 
me  from  the  common  doom. 

As  the  hour  of  noon  drew  nigh,  it  seemed  as  if  the 
entire  population  of  Rome  was  pouring  itself  into  the 
streets  and  avenues  leading  to  the  capitol.  Not  the 
triumph  of  Aurelian  itself  filled  this  people  with  a  more 
absorbing,  and,  as  it  appeared;  a  more  pleasing  interest, 
than  did  the  approaching  calamities  of  the  Christians. 
Expectation  was  written  on  every  face.  Even  the  boys 
threw  up  their  caps  as  in  anticipation  of  somewhat  that 
was  to  add  greatly  to  their  happiness. 

The  sixth  hour  has  come  and  is  gone.  The  edicts 
are  published,  and  the  Christians  are  now  declared 
enemies  of  the  state  and  of  the  gods,  and  are  required  to 
be  informed  against  by  all  good  citizens,  and  arraigned 
before  the  Prefect  and  the  other  magistrates  especially 
appointed  for  the  purpose. 

All  is  now  confusion,  uproar,  and  cruel  violence. 

No  sooner  was  the  purport  of  the  edicts  ascertained 
by  the  multitudes  who  on  this  occasion,  as  before, 


196  AtT  RE  LI  AN. 

i 

thronged  the  capitol,  than  they  scattered  in  pursuit  of 
their  victims.  The  priests  of  the  temples  heading  the 
furious  crowds,  they  hastened  from  the  hill  in  every 
direction,  assailing,  as  they  reached  them,  the  houses  of 
the  Christians,  and  dragging  the  wretched  inhabitants 
to  the  presence  of  their  barbarous  judges.  Although  in 
the  present  edicts  the  people  are  not  let  loose  as  author 
ized  murderers  upon  the  Christians,  they  are  neverthe 
less  exhorted  and  required  to  inform  against  them  and 
bring  them  before  the  proper  tribunals  on  the  charge  of 
Christianity,  so  that  there  is  lodged  in  their  hands  a 
fearful  power  to  harrass  and  injure  —  a  power  which  is 
used  as  you  may  suppose  Romans  would  use  it.  Every 
species  of  violence  has  this  day  been  put  in  practice 
upon  this  innocent  people  ;  their  perpetrators  feeling 
sure  that,  in  the  confusion,  deeds  at  which  even  Varus 
or  Aurelian  might  take  offence  will  be  overlooked.  The 
tribunals  have  been  thronged  from  noon  till  night  with 
Christians  and  their  accusers.  As  the  examination  of 
those  who  have  been  brought  up  has  rarely  occupied  but 
a  few  moments,  the  evidence  always  being  sufficiently 
full  to  prove  them  Christians,  and,  when  that  has  been 
wanting,  their  own  ready  confession  supplying  the  defect 
—  the  prisons  are  already  filling  with  their  unhappy 
tenants,  and  extensive  provisions  are  making  to  receive 
them  in  other  buildings  set  apart  for  the  time  to  this 
office.  A  needless  provision.  For  it  requires  but  little 
knowledge  of  Aurelian  to  know  that  his  impatient  tem 
per  will  not  long  endure  the  tedious  process  of  a  regular 
accusation,  trial,  condemnation,  and  punishment.  A 
year,  in  that  case,  would  scarce  suffice  to  make  way 
with  the  Christians  of  Rome,  Long  before  the  prisons 


ATT  R  ELIAN.  197 

can  be  emptied  in  a  legal  way  of  the  tenants  already 
crowding  them,  will  the  Emperor  resort  to  the  speedier 
method  of  a  general  and  indiscriminate  massacre.  No 
one  can  doubt  this,  who  is  familiar  as  I  am  with  Aurel- 
lan,  and  the  spirits  who  now  rule  him. 

Let  me  tell  you  now  of  the  fate  of  Probus. 

He  was  seated  within  his  own  quiet  home  at  the  time 
the  edicts  were  proclaimed  from  the  steps  of  the  capitol. 
The  moment  the  herald  who  proclaimed  them  had  pro 
nounced  the  last  word,  and  was  affixing  them  to  the 
column,  the  name  of  Probus  was  heard  shouted  from 
one  side  of  the  hill  to  the  other,  and,  while  the  multitude 
scattered  in  every  direction  in  pursuit  of  those  who  were 
known  to  them  severally  as  Christians,  a  large  division 
of  it  made  on  the  instant  for  his  dwelling.  On  arriving 
there,  roused  by  the  noise  of  the  approaching  throng, 
Probus  came  forth.  He  was  saluted  by  cries  and  yells, 
that  seemed  rather  to  proceed  from  troops  of  wild  beasts 
than  men.  He  would  fain  have  spoken  to  them,  but  no 
word  would  they  hear.  *  Away  with  the  Christian  dog 
to  the  Prefect  ! '  arose  in  one  deafening  shout  from  the 
people  ;  and  on  the  instant  he  was  seized  and  bound, 
and  led  unresisting  away  to  the  tribunal  of  Varus. 

As  he  was  dragged  violently  along,  and  was  now 
passing  the  door  which  leads  to  the  room  where  Varus 
sits,  Felix,  the  bishop,  having  already  stood  before  the 
Prefect,  was  leaving  the  hall,  urged  along  by  soldiers 
who  were  bearing  him  to  prison. 

'  Be  of  good  cheer,  Probus  !'  exclaimed  he  ;  '  a  crown 

17*  VOL.  II. 


I  98  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

awaits  thee  within.     Rome   needs  thy  life,  and  Christ 
thy  soul.' 

*  Peace,  dotard  !'  cried  one  of  those  who  guarded  and 
led  him  ;    and  at  the   same  moment  brought  his  spear 
with  such  force  upon  his  head  that  he  felled  him  to  the 
pavement. 

'  Thou  hast  slain  thyself,  soldier,  by  that  blow  rather 
than  him,'  said  Probus.  '  Thine  own  faith  has  torments 
in  reserve  for  such  as  thee.' 

'  Thou  too ! '  cried  the  enraged  soldier  ;  and  he 
would  have  repeated  the  blow  upon  the  head  of  the  of 
fender,  but  that  the  descending  weapon  was  suddenly 
struck  upwards,  and  out  of  the  hand  of  him  who  wield 
ed  it,  by  another  belonging  to  the  same  legion,  who 
guarded  Probus,  saying  as  he  did  so, 

*  Hold,  Mutius  !  it  is  not  Roman  to  strike  the  bound 
and  defenceless,  Christians  though  they  be.     Raise  that 
fallen  old  man,  and  apply  such  restoratives  as  the  place 
affords.'     And  then,  with  other  directions  to  those  who 
were  subordinate  to  him,  he   moved  on,  bearing  Probus 
with  him. 

Others  who  had  arrived  before  him,  were  standing 
in  the  presence  of  Varus,  who  was  questioning  them  as 
to  their  faith  in  Christ.  On  the  left  hand  of  the  Pre 
fect,  and  on  the  right  of  those  who  were  examined, 
stood  a  small  altar  surmounted  by  a  statue  of  Jupiter, 
to  which  the  Christians  were  required  to  sacrifice.  But 
few  words  sufficed  for  the  examination  of  such  as  were 
brought  up.  Upon  being  inquired  of  touching  their 
faith,  there  was  no  waiting  for  witnesses,  but  as  soon  as 
the  question  was  put,  the  arraigned  person  acknowl 
edged  at  once  his  name  and  religion.  He  was  then  re- 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  199 

quired  to  sacrifice  and  renounce  his  faith,  and  forthwith 
he  should  be  dismissed  in  safety,  and  with  honor.  This 
the  Christian  refusing  steadfastly  to  do,  sentence  of 
death  was  instantly  pronounced  against  him,  and  he 
was  remanded  to  the  prisons  to  await  the  time  of  pun 
ishment. 

Probus  was  now  placed  before  the  Prefect.  When  it 
was  seen  throughout  the  crowd  which  again  filled  the 
house,  who  it  was  that  was  arraigned  for  examination, 
there  were  visible  signs  of  satisfaction  all  around,  that 
he,  who  was  in  a  manner  the  ringleader  of  the  sect,  was 
about  to  meet  with  his  deserts.  As  the  eye  of  Varus 
fell  upon  Probus,  and  he  too  became  aware  who  it  was 
that  stood  at  his  tribunal,  he  bent  courteously  towards 
him,  and  saluted  him  with  respect. 

'  Christian,'  said  he,  '  I  sincerely  grieve  to  see  thee 
in  such  a  pass.  Ever  since  I  met  thee  in  the  shop  of 
the  learned  Publius  have  I  conceived  an  esteem  for  thee, 
and  would  now  gladly  rescue  thee  from  the  danger  that 
overhangs.  Bethink  thee  now  —  thou  art  of  too  much 
account  to  die  as  these  others.  A  better  fate  should  be 
thine  ;  and  I  will  stand  thy  friend." 

'  Were  what  thou  sayest  true,'  replied  Probus,  *  which 
I  am  slow  to  admit  —  for  nobler,  purer  souls  never  lived 
on  earth  than  have  but  now  left  this  spot  where  I  stand 
—  it  would  but  be  a  reason  of  greater  force  to  me,  why 
I  should  lose  my  life  sooner  than  renounce  my  faith. 
What  sacrifice  can  be  too  holy  for  the  altar  of  the  God 
whom  I  serve  ?  Would  to  God  I  were  more  worthy 
than  I  am  to  be  offered  up.' 

'  Verily,'  said  Varus,  *  you  are  a  wonderful  people. 
The  more  fitted  you  are  to  live  happily  to  yourselves, 


200  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

and  honorably  to  others,  the  readier  you  are  to  die.  I 
behold  in  you,  Probus,  qualities  that  must  make  you 
useful  here  in  Rome.  Rome  needs  such  as  thyself. 
Say  but  the  word,  and  thou  art  safe.' 

'  Could  I  in  truth,  Varus,  possess  the  qualities  thou 
imputest  to  me,  were  I  ready  on  the  moment  to  abandon 
what  I  have  so  long  professed  to  honor  and  believe  — 
abjuring,  for  the  sake  of  a  few  years  more  of  life,  a 
faith  which  I  have  planted  in  so  many  other  hearts,  and 
which  has  already  brought  them  into  near  neighbor 
hood  of  a  cruel  death  ?  Couldst  thou  thyself  afterward 
think  of  me  but  as  of  a  traitor  and  a  coward  ? ' 

'  I  never,'  said  Varus,  *  could  do  otherwise  than  es 
teem  one,  who,  however  late,  at  length  declared  himself 
the  friend  of  Rome  ;  and,  more  than  others  should  I  es 
teem  him,  who,  from  being  an  enemy,  became  a  friend. 
Even  the  Emperor,  Probus,  desires  thy  safety.  It  is  at 
his  instance  that  I  press  thee.' 

Probus  bent  his  head  and  remained  silent.  The  peo 
ple,  taking  it  as  a  sign  of  acquiescence,  cried  out,  many 
of  them,  '  See,  he  will  sacrifice  I' 

Varus  too  said,  '  It  needs  not  that  the  outward  sign 
be  made.  We  will  dispense  with  it.  The  inward  con 
sent,  Probus,  shall  suffice.  Soldiers  !  — 

*  Hold,  hold,  Varus  !'  cried  Probus,  rousing  himself 
from  a  momentary  forge tfulness.  «  Think  not,  O  Pre 
fect,  so  meanly  of  me  !  What  have  I  said  or  done  to 
induce  such  belief  ?  I  was  but  oppressed  for  a  moment 
with  grief  and  shame  that  I  should  be  chosen  out  from 
among  all  the  Christians  in  Rome  as  one  whom  soft 
words  and  bribes  and  the  hope  of  life  could  seduce  from 
Christ.  Cease,  Varus,  then  ;  these  words  are  vain. 


AURELIAN.  201 

Such  as  I  have  been,  I  am,  and  shall  be  to  the  end  — 
a  Christian  ! ' 

'  To  the  rack  with  the  Christian  then ! '  shouted 
many  voices  from  the  crowd. 

Varus  enforced  silence. 

*  Probus,'  said  he,  as  order  was  restored,  « I  shall  still 
hope  the  best  for  thee.  Thou  art  of  different  stuff  from 
him  whom  we  first  had  before  us,  and  leisure  for  reflec 
tion  may  bring  thee  to  another  mind.  I  shall  not 
therefore  condemn  thee  cither  to  the  rack  or  to  death. 
Soldiers,  bear  him  to  the  prisons  at  the  Fabrician 
bridge.' 

Whereupon  he  was  led  from  the  tribunal,  and  con 
ducted  by  a  guard  to  the  place  of  his  confinement. 


The  fate  of  Probus  we  now  regard  as  sealed.  In 
what  manner  he  will  finally  be  disposed  of  it  is  vain 
to  conjecture,  so  various  are  the  ways,  each  one  more 
ingenious  in  cruelty  than  another,  in  which  Christians 
are  made  to  suffer  and  die.  Standing  as  he  does,  as 
virtually  the  head  of  the  Christian  community,  we  can 
anticipate  for  him  a  death  only  of  more  refined  barbarity. 

Felix  too,  we  learn,  is  confined  in  the  same  prison  : 
and  with  him  all  the  other  principal  Christians  of  Rome. 


We  have  visited  Probus  in  his  confinement  You 
do  not  remember,  Fausta,  probably  you  never  saw,  the 
prison  at  the  Fabrician  bridge.  It  seems  a  city  itself, 
so  vast  is  it,  and  of  so  many  parts,  running  upwards  in 


202  AU  RE  LI  AN. 

walls  and  towers  to  a  dizzy  height,  and  downwards  to 
unkngwn  depths,  where  it  spreads  out  in  dungeons  nev 
er  visited  by  the  light  of  day.  In  this  prison,  now 
crowded  with  the  Christians,  did  we  seek  our  friend. 
We  were  at  once,  upon  making  known  our  want,  shown 
to  the  cell  in  which  he  was  confined. 

We  found  him,  as  we  entered,  seated  and  bending 
over  a  volume  which  he  was  reading,  aided  by  the  faint 
light  afforded  by  a  lamp  which  his  jailer  had  furnished 
him.  He  received  us  with  cheerfulness,  and  at  his 
side  on  the  single  block  of  stone  which  the  cell  provided 
for  its  inmates,  we  sat  and  long  conversed.  I  expressed 
my  astonishment  that  the  favor  of  a  lamp  had  been  al 
lowed  him.  *  It  is  not  in  accordance,'  I  said,  *  with  the 
usages  of  this  place.' 

*  You  will  be  still  more  amazed,'  he  replied,  '  when  I 
tell  you  through  whose  agency  I  enjoy  it.' 

'  You  must  inform  us,'  we  said,  *  for  we  cannot  guess.' 

'  Isaac's  ;'  he  replied.  *  At  least  I  can  think  of  no 
other  to  whom  the  description  given  me  by  the  jailer  cor 
responds.  He  told  me  upon  bringing  it  to  me,  that  a 
kind-hearted  old  man,  a  Jew,  as  he  believed  him,  had 
made  inquiry  about  me,  and  had  entreated  earnestly  for 
all  such  privileges  and  favors,  as  the  customs  of  the  place 
would  allow.  He  has  even  procured  me  the  blessing  of 
this  friendly  light — and  what  is  more  yet  and  which  fills 
me  with  astonishment — has  sent  me  this  volume,  which 
is  the  true  light.  Can  it  be  that  Isaac  has  done  all  this, 
who  surely  never  has  seemed  to  regard  me  with  much 
favor.' 

'  Never  doubt  that  it  is  he,'  said  Julia  ;  *  he  has  two 
natures,  sometimes  one  is  seen,  sometimes  the  other  — 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  203 

his  Jew  nature,  and  his  human  nature.  His  human 
heart  is  soft  as  a  woman's  or  a  child's.  One  so  full  oi 
the  spirit  of  love  I  have  never  known.  At  times  in  his 
speech,  you  would  think  him  a  man  bloody  and  severe 
as  Aurelian  himself ;  but  in  his  deeds  he  is  almost 
more  than  a  Christian.' 

'  As  the  true  circumcision,'  said  Probus,  *  is  that  of  the 
heart,  and  as  he  is  a  Jew  who  is  one  inwardly,  so  is  he 
only  a  Christian  who  does  the  deeds  of  one  and  has  the 
heart  of  one.  And  he  who  does  those  deeds,  and  has 
that  heart — what  matters  it  by  what  name  he  is  called  ? 
Isaac  is  a  Christian,  in  the  only  important  sense  of  the 
word — and,  alas  !  that  it  should  be  so,  more  than  many 
a  one  who  bears  the  name.  But  does  this  make  Christ 
to  be  of  none  effect  ?  Not  so.  The  natural  light,  which 
lightens  every  man  who  cometh  into  the  world  will,  here 
and  there,  in  every  place,  and  in  every  age,  bring  forth 
those  who  shall  show  themselves  in  the  perfection  of 
their  virtues  to  be  of  the  very  lineage  of  Heaven  —  true 
heirs  of  its  glory.  Isaac  is  such  a  one.  But  what 
then  ?  For  one  such,  made  by  the  light  of  nature,  the 
gospel  gives  us  thousands.  But  how  is  it,  Piso,  in  the 
city  ?  Are  the  wolves  still  abroad  ?' 

*  They  are.  The  people  have  themselves  turned  in 
formers,  soldiers,  and  almost  executioners.  However 
large  may  be  the  proportion  of  the  friendly  or  the  neu 
tral  in  the  city,  they  dare  not  show  themselves.  The 
mob  of  those  devoted  to  Aurelian  constitutes  now  the 
true  sovereignty  of  Rome  —  the  streets  are  theirs  —  the 
courts  are  theirs — and  anon  the  games  will  be  theirs.* 

'  I  am   given  to   understand,'   said  Probus,  *  that  to 


204  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N. 

morrow  I  suffer  ;  yet  have  I  received  from  the  Prefect  no 
warning  to  that  effect.  It  is  the  judgment  of  my  keeper.' 

4  I  have  heard  the  same,'  I  answered,  *  but  I  know  not 
with  what  truth.' 

4  It  can  matter  little  to  me,'  he  replied,  *  when  the  hour 
shall  come,  whether  to-morrow  or  to-night.' 

*  It  cannot,'  said  Julia.  '  Furnished  with  the  whjole 
armor  of  the  gospel,  it  will  be  an  easy  thing  for  you  to 
encounter  death.' 

'  It  will,  lady,  believe  me.  I  have  many  times  fought 
with  enemies  of  a  more  fearful  front.  The  enemies  of 
the  soul  are  those  whom  the  Christian  most  dreads. 
Death  is  but  the  foe  of  life.  So  the  Christian  may  but 
live  to  virtue  and  God,  he  can  easily  make  his  account 
with  death.  It  is  not  the  pain  of  dying,  nor  the  manner 
of  it,  nor  any  doubts  or  speculations  about  the  life  to 
come,  which,  at  an  hour  like  this,  intrude  upon  the 
Christian's  thoughts.' 

'  And  what  then,'  asked  Julia,  as  Probus  paused  and 
fell  back  into  himself,  '  is  it  that  fills  and  agitates  the 
mind  ?  for  at  such  a  moment  it  can  scarcely  possess  it 
self  in  perfect  peace.' 

« It  is  this,'  replied  Probus.  '  Am  I  worthy  ?  Have  I 
wrought  well  my  appointed  task  ?  Have  I  kept  the 
faith  ?  And  is  God  my  friend  and  Jesus  my  Saviour  ? 
These  are  the  thoughts  that  engross  and  fill  the  mind. 
It  is  busy  with  the  past  —  and  with  itself.  It  has  no 
thoughts  to  spare  upon  suffering  and  death  —  it  has  no 
doubts  or  fears  to  remove  concerning  immortality.  The 
future  life,  to  me,  stands  out  in  the  same  certainty  as 
the  present.  Death  is  but  the  moment  which  connects 
the  two.  You  say  well,  that  at  such  an  hour  as  this  the 


A  U  R  E  L  1  A  N  .  206 

mind  can  scarce  possess  itself  in  perfect  peace.  Yet  is 
it  agitated  by  nothing  that  resembles  fear.  It  is  the 
agitation  that  must  necessarily  have  place  in  the  mind  of 
one  to  whom  a  great  trust  has  been  committed  for  a  long 
series  of  years,  at  that  moment  when  he  cornes  to  sur 
render  it  up  to  him  from  whom  it  was  received.  I  have 
lived  many  years.  Ten  thousand  opportunities  of  doing 
good  to  myself  and  others  have  been  set  before  me. 
The  world  has  been  a  wide  field  of  action  and  labor, 
where  I  have  been  required  to  sow  and  till  against  the 
future  harvest.  Must  I  not  experience  solicitude  about 
the  acts  and  the  thoughts  of  so  long  a  career  ?  I  may 
often  have  erred  ;  I  must  often  have  stood  idly  by  the 
wayside  ;  I  must  many  times  have  been  neglectful,  and 
forgetful,  aud  wilful  ;  I  must  often  have  sinned  ;  and  it 
is  not  all  the  expected  glory  of  another  life,  nor  all  the 
honor  of  dying  in  the  cause  of  Christ,  nor  all  the  triumph 
of  a  martyr's  fate,  that  can  or  ought  to  stifle  and  overlay 
such  thoughts.  Still  I  am  happy.  Happy,  not  because 
I  arn  in  my  own  view  worthy  or  complete,  but  because 
through  Jesus  Christ  I  am  taught,  in  God,  to  see  a 
Father.  I  know  that  in  him  I  shall  find  both  a  just  and  a 
merciful  judge  ;  and  in  him  who  was  tempted  even  as 
we  are,  who  was  of  our  nature  and  exposed  to  our  trials, 
shall  I  find  an  advocate  and  intercessor  such  as  the  soul 
needs.  So  that,  if  anxious  as  he  who  is  human  and  fal 
lible  must  ever  be,  I  am  nevertheless  happy  and  con 
tented.  My  voyage  is  ended  ;  the  ocean  of  life  is 
crossed  ,  and  I  stand  by  the  shore  with  joyful  expecta 
tions  of  the  word  that  shall  bid  me  land  and  enter  intc 
the  haven  of  my  rest.' 
18  VOL.  ii. 


206  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

As  Probus  ended  these  words,  a  low  and  deep  murmur 
or  distant  rumbling  as  of  thunder  caught  our  ears, 
which,  as  we  listened,  suddenly  increased  to  a  terrific 
roar  of  lions,  as  it  were  directly  under  our  feet.  We 
instinctively  sprang  from  where  we  sat,  but  were  quieted 
at  once  by  Probus  : 

*  There  is  no  danger,*  said  he  ;  *  they  are  not  within 
our  apartment,  nor  very  near  us.     They  are  a  company 
of  Rome's  executioners,  kept  in  subterranean  dungeons, 
and   fed  with  prisoners  whom   her   mercy    consigns    to 
them.     Sounds  more  horrid  yet  have  met  my  ears,  and 
may  yours.     Yet  I  hope  not.' 

But  while  he  yet  spoke,  the  distant  shrieks  of  those 
who  were  thrust  toward  the  den,  into  which  from  a  high 
ledge  they  were  to  be  plunged  headlong,  were  borne  to  us, 
accompanied  by  the  oaths  and  lashes  of  such  as  drove 
them,  but  which  were  immediately  drowned  by  the  louder 
roaring  of  the  imprisoned  beasts  as  they  fell  upon  and 
fought  for  their  prey.  We  sat  mute  and  trembling  with 
horror,  till  those  sounds  at  length  ceased  to  reverberate 
through  the  aisles  and  arches  of  the  building. 

'  O  Rome  !'  cried  Probus,  when  they  had  died  away, 
1  how  art  thou  drunk  with  blood  !  Crazed  by  ambition, 
drunk  with  blood,  drowned  in  sin,  hardened  as  a  mill 
stone  against  all  who  come  to  thee  for  good,  how  shah 
thou  be  redeemed  ?  where  is  the  power  to  save  thee  ?' 

*  It  is  in  thee  !  '  said  Julia.     *  It  is  thy  blood,  Probus, 
and  that  of  these  multitudes  who  suffer  with  thee,  that 
shall  have  power  to  redeem  Rome  and  the  world.     The 
blood    of  Jesus,   first    shed,  startled    the    world   in    its 
slumbers    of  sin    and    death.     Thine  is  needed  now  to 
sound  another  alarm,  and  rouse  it  yet  once  more.     And 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  207 

even  again  and  again  may  the  same  sacrifice  be  to  be 
offered  up.' 

'  True,  lady,'  said  Probus  ;  '  it  is  sj.  And  it  is  of  that 
I  should  think.  Those  for  whom  I  die  should  fill  my 
thoughts,  rather  than  any  concern  for  my  own  happiness. 
If  I  might  but  be  the  instrument,  by  my  death,  of  open 
ing  the  eyes  of  this  great  people  to  their  errors  and  their 
guilt,  I  should  meet  death  with  gratitude  and  joy.' 

With  this  and  such  like  conversation,  Fausta,  did  we 
fill  up  a  long  interview  with  Probus.  As  we  rose  from 
our  seats  to  take  leave  of  him,  not  doubting  that  we  then 
saw  him  and  spoke  to  him  for  the  last  time,  he  yielded 
to  the  force  of  nature  and  wept.  But  this  was  but  for  a 
moment.  Quickly  restored  to  himself — if  indeed  when 
shedding  those  tears  he  were  not  more  truly  himself — 
he  bade  us  farewell,  saying  with  firmness  and  cheerful 
ness  as  he  did  so, 

'  Notwithstanding,  Piso,  the  darkness  of  this  hour  an  i 
of  all  the  outward  prospect,  it  is  bright  within.  Fare 
well  !  —  to  meet  as  I  trust  in  Heaven  ! ' 

We  returned  to  the  Crelian. 

When  I  parted  from  Prolbus,  at  the  close  of  this  inter 
view,  it  was  in  the  belief  that  I  should  never  see  him 
more.  But  I  was  once  again  in  his  dungeon,  and  then 
heard  from  him  what  I  will  now  repeat  to  you.  It  was 
thus. 

Not  long  after  we  had  withdrawn  from  his  cell  on  OUT 
first  visit,  Probus,  as  was  his  wont  when  alone,  sat  read 
ing  by  that  dim  and  imperfect  light  which  the  jailer  had 
provided  him.  He  presently  closed  the  volume  and  laid 
it  away.  While  he  then  sat  musing,  and  thinking  of 


208  A  U  R  E  L  1  A  N  . 

the  morrow,  and  of  the  fate  which  then  probably  awaited 
him,  the  door  of  his  cell  slowly  opened.  He  looked, 
expecting  to  see  his  usual  visitant  the  jailer,  but  it  was 
a  form  very  different  from  his.  The  door  closed,  and 
the  figure  advanced  to  where  Probus  sat.  The  gown  in 
which  it  was  enveloped  was  then  let  fall,  and  the  Prefect 
stood  before  the  Christian. 

4  Varus  !'  said  Probus.     (  Do  I  see  aright  ? ' 
'  It  is  Varus,'  replied  the  Prefect.    *  And  your  friend.' 
'  I  would,  now  at  least,  be  at  friendship  with  all  the 
world,'  responded  Probus. 

'  Yet,'  said  Varus,  '  your  friends  must  be  few,  that 
you  should  be  left  in  this  place  of  horror,  alone,  to  meet 
your  fate.' 

*  I  have  no  friend  powerful  enough,  on  earth  at  least, 
to  cope  with  the  omnipotence  of  Aurelian,'  replied  Pro- 
bus. 

'  Thy  friends,  Christian,  are  more,  and  more  potent 
than  thou  dreamest  of.  As  I  said  to  thee  before,  even 
Aurelian  esteems  thee.' 

*  Strange,  that,  if  he  esteems  me,  as  thou  sayest,  he 
should  thrust  me  within  the  lions'  den,  with  prospect  oi 
no  escape  but  into  their  jaws.     And  can  I  suppose  that 
his  esteem  is  worth  much  to  me  who  crowds  his  prisons 
with  those  who  are  nearest  to  me,  reserving  them  there 
for  a  death  the  most  cruel  and  abhorred  ?' 

1  He  may  esteem  thee,  Probus,  and  not  thy  faith. 
'Tis  so  with  me.  I  like  not  thy  faith,  but  truly  do  I  say 
it,  I  like  thee,  and  would  fain  serve  and  save  thee. 
Nay,  'tis  thy  firmness  and  thy  zeal  in  the  cause  tbou 
hast  espoused  that  wins  me.  I  honor  those  virtues. 
But,  Probus,  in  thee  they  are  dangerous  ones.  The 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  209 

same  qualities  in  a  worthier  cause  would  make  thee 
great.  That  which  thou  hast  linked  thyself  to,  Chris 
tian,  is  a  downward  and  a  dying  one.  Its  doom-  is  seal 
ed.  The  word  of  Aurelian  is  gone  forth,  and,  before 
the  Ides,  the  blood  of  every  Christian  in  Rome  shall 
flow  —  and  not  in  Rome  only,  but  throughout  the  em 
pire.  The  forces  are  now  disposing  over  the  whole  of 
this  vast  realm,  which,  at  a  sign  from  the  great  Head, 
shall  fall  upon  this  miserable  people,  and  their  very 
name  shall  vanish  from  the  earth.  It  is  vain  to  con 
tend.  It  is  but  the  struggling  of  a  man  with  the  will 
and  the  arm  of  Jove  — ' 

*  Varus  ! — '  Probus  began. 

'  Nay,'  said  the  Prefect,  « listen  first.  This  faith  of 
thine,  Christian,  which  can  thus  easily  be  destroyed, 
cannot  be  that  divine  and  holy  thing  thou  deemest  it. 
So  judges  Porphyrius,  and  all  of  highest  mark  here  in 
Rome.  It  is  not  to  be  thought  of  one  moment  as  possi 
ble,  that  what  a  God  made  known  to  man  for  truth,  he 
should  afterward  leave  defenceless,  to  be  trodden  to  the 
dust,  and  its  ministers  and  disciples  persecuted,  tor 
mented,  and  exterminated  by  human  force.  Christian, 
thou  hast  been  deceived  —  and  all  thy  fellows  are  in 
the  like  delusion.  Do  thou  then  save  both  thyself  and 
them.  It  is  in  thy  power  to  stop  all  this  effusion  of 
blood,  and  restore  unity  and  peace  to  an  empire  now 
torn  and  bleeding  in  every  part.' 

'  And  how,  Varus —  seeing  thou  wouldst  that  I  should 
hear  all  —  how  shall  it  be  done  ? ' 

'  Embrace,  Probus,  the  faith  of  Rome  —  the  faith  of 
lliy  father,  venerable  for  piety  as  for  years —  the  faith 

18*  VOL.  II. 


210  AU  RE  LI  AN. 

of  centuries,  and  of  millions  of  our  great  progenitors 
and  thou  art  safe,  and  all  thine  are  safe.' 

Probus  was  silent. 

'  Aurelian  bids  me  say,'  continued  the  Prefect,  '  that 
doing  this,  there  is  not  a  wish  of  thy  heart,  for  thyself, 
or  for  those  who  are  dear  to  thee,but  it  shall  be  granted. 
Wealth,  more  than  miser  ever  craved,  office  and  place 
lower  but  little  than  Aurelian's  own,  shall  be  thine  — ' 

'  Varus  !  if  there  is  within  thee  the  least  touch  of  hu 
manity,  cease !  Thy  words  have  sunk  into  these  dead 
walls  as  far  as  into  me  ;  yet  have  they  entered  far 
enough  to  have  wounded  the  soul  through  and  through. 
No't,  Varus,  though  to  all  thou  hast  said  and  promised 
thou  shouldst  add  Rome  itself  and  the  empire,  and  still 
to  that  the  subject  kingdoms  of  the  East  and  West,  with 
their  treasures,  and  the  world  itself,  would  I  prove  false 
to  myself,  my  faith,  and  my  God.  Nor  canst  thou  think 
me  base  enough  for  such  a  deed.  This  is  no  great 
virtue  in  me,  Varus.  I  hold  it  not  such  ;  nor  may  you. 
Go  through  the  secret  chambers  of  these  prisons  with 
the  same  rich  bribe  upon  thy  tongue,  and  not  one  so 
fallen  wouldst  thou  find  that  he  would  hear  thee  through 
as  I  have  done.  Varus,  thou  knowest  not  what  a 
Christian  is  !  Thou  canst  not  conceive  how  little  a  thing 
life  is  in  his  regard  set  by  the  side  of  truth.  I  grieve 
that  ever  I  should  have  been  so  esteemed  by  thee  as  to 
warrant  the  proffers  thou  hast  made.  This  injures 
more  and  deeper  than  these  bonds,  or  than  all  thine 
array  of  engines  or  of  beasts.' 

1  Be  not  the  fool  and  madman,'  said  the  Prefect,  '  to 
cast  away  from  thee  the  mercy  I  have  brought.  Except 
on  the  terms  I  have  now  named,  I  say  there  is  'hope 


AURELIAN.  211 

neither  for  thee,  nor  for  one  of  this  faith  in  Rome,  how 
ever  high  their  name  or  rank.' 

4  That  can  make  no  change  in  my  resolve,  Varus.' 

'  Consider,  Probus,  well.  As  by  thy  renunciation 
thou  couldst  save  thyself,  I  now  tell  thee  that  the  lives 
of  those  whom  thou  boldest  nearest,  hang  also  upon  thy 
word.  Assent  to  what  I  have  offered,  and  Piso  and 
Julia  live  !  Reject  it,  and  they  die  !' 

Varus  paused  ;  but  Probus  spoke  not.     He  went  on. 

'  Christian,  are  not  these  dear  to  thee  ?  Demetrius 
too,  and  Felix  ?  Where  are  the  mercies  of  thy  boasted 
faith,  if  thy  heart  is  left  thus  hard?  Truly  thou  might- 
est  as  well  have  lived  and  died  a  Pagan.' 

'  Again  I  say,  Varus,  thou  knowest  not  what  a  Chris 
tian  is.  We  put  truth  before  life  ;  and  if  by  but  a  word 
that  should  deny  the  truth  in  Christ,  or  any  jot  or  tittle 
of  it,  I  could  save  the  life  of  Piso,  Julia,  Felix,  De 
metrius,  nay,  and  all  in  Rome  who  hold  this  faith,  my 
tongue  should  be  torn  from  my  mouth  before  that  word 
should  be  spoken.  And  so  wouldst  thou  find  every 
Christian  here  in  Rome.  Why  then  urge  me  more  ? 
Did  Macer  hear  thee  ? ' 

'  I  hold  thee,  Probus,  a  wiser  man  than  he.  All  Rome 
knew  him  mad.  Cast  not  away  thy  life.  Live,  and  to 
morrow's  sun  shall  see  thee  First  in  Rome  ! ' 

*  Varus  !  why  is  this  urgency  ?  Think  me  not  a  fool 
and  blind.  Thou  knowest,  and  Fronto  and  Aurelian 
know,  that  one  apostate  would  weigh  more  for  your  bad 
cause  than  a  thousand  headless  trunks  ;  and  so  with  cruel 
and  insulting  craft  you  weave  your  snares  and  pile  to 
Heaven  your  golden  bribes.  Begone,  Varus,  and  say 
to  Aurelian,  if  in  truth  he  sent  thee  on  thy  shame fu" 


212  AURELIAN. 

errand,  tnat,  in  the  Fabrician  prison,  in  the  same  dun 
geon  where  he  cast  Probus  the  Christian,  there  still  lives 
Probus  the  Roman,  whe  reveres  what  he  once  revered 
and  loved,  truth,  and  whom  his  bribes  cannot  turn  from 
his  integrity.' 

'  Die  then,  idiot,  in  thy  integrity  !  Thou  hast  thrown 
scorn  upon  one,  who  has  power  and  the  will  to  pay  it 
back  in  a  coin  it  may  little  please  thee  to  take  it  in.  If 
there  be  one  torment,  Galilean,  sharper  than  another,  it 
shall  be  thine  tomorrow  ;  and  for  one  moment  that  Ma- 
cer  passed  upon  my  irons,  there  shall  be  hours  for  thee. 
Not  till  the  flesh  be  peeled  inch  by  inch  from  thy  bones, 
and  thy  vitals  look  through  thy  ribs,  and  thy  brain  boil 
in  its  hot  case,  and  each  particular  nerve  be  stretched 
till  it  break,  shall  thy  life  be  suffered  to  depart.  Then, 
what  the  tormentors  shall  have  left,  the  dogs  of  the 
streets  shall  devour.  Now,  Christian,  let  us  see  if  thy 
God,  beholding  thy  distress,  will  pity  and  deliver  thee.' 

Saying  these  words,  his  countenance  transformed  by 
passion  to  that  of  a  demon,  he  turned  and  left  the  cell. 

Never,  Fausta,  I  feel  assured,  did  Aurelian  commis 
sion  Varus  with  such  an  errand.  Fallen  though  he  be, 
he  has  not  yet  fallen  to  that  lowest  deep.  Varus  doubt 
less  hoped  to  prevail  over  Probus  by  his  base  proposals, 
and  by  such  triumph  raise  his  fortunes  yet  higher  with 
Aurelian.  It  was  a  game  worth  playing  —  so  he  judged, 
and  perhaps  wisely  —  and  worth  a  risk.  For  doubtless 
one  apostate  of  the  rank  of  Probus  would  have  been  of 
more  avail  to  them,  as  Probus  said  to  him,  than  a  thous- 
e.nd  slam.  For  nothing  do  the  judges  so  weary  them 
selves,  and  exhaust  their  powers  of  persuasion,  as  to  in 
duce  the  Christians  who  are  brought  before  them  to  re- 


AtJ  K,  E  LI  A  N  .  213 

nounce  their  faith.  So  desirous  are  they  of  this,  that 
they  have  caused,  in  many  instances,  those  who  were 
no  Christians  to  be  presented  at  their  tribunals,  who 
have  then,  after  being  threatened  with  torture  and  death, 
renounced  a  faith  which  they  never  professed.  Once 
and  again  has  this  farce  been  acted  before  the  Roman 
people.  Their  real  triumphs  of  this  sort  have  as  yet 
been  very  few ;  and  the  sensation  which  they  produced 
was  swallowed  up  and  lost  in  the  glory  —  in  the  eyes 
even  of  the  strangers  who  are  in  Rome  —  which  has 
crowned  us  in  the  steadfast  courage  with  which  our 
people  have  remained  quietly  in  their  homes,  throughout 
all  this  dreadful  preparation,  and  then,  when  the  hour 
of  trial  drew  nigh,  and  they  were  placed  at  the  bar  of 
the  judge,  and  were  accused  of  their  religion,  confessed 
the  charge,  boasted  of  it,  and  then  took  their  way  to  the 
prison,  from  which,  they  well  knew,  death  only  would 
deliver  them. 

That,  Fausta,  which  we  have  long  feared  and  looked 
for,  has  come  to  pass,  and  Probus,  our  more  than  friend, 
our  benefactor,  and  almost  our  parent,  is,  by  the  Emperor, 
condemned  to  death  ;  not,  as  from  the  words  of  Varus 
it  might  be  supposed,  to  the  same  torments  as  those 
to  which  Macer  was  made  subject  ;  but  to  be  thrown  to 
the  beasts  in  the  Flavian,  a  death  more  merciful  than 
that,  but  yet  full  of  horror.  How  is  it  that,  in  the 
Roman,  mercy  seems  dead,  and  the  human  nature, 
which  he  received  from  the  gods,  changed  to  that  of  the 
most  savage  beast  ! 

Livia  has  been  with  us ;  and  here,  with  us,  would  she 
now  gladly  remain.  It  is  impossible,  she  says,  for  us  to 


214  ATT  RE  LI  A  N  . 

conceive  the  height  of  the  frenzy  to  which  Aurelian  is 
now  wrought  up  against  the  Christians.  In  his  impa 
tience,  he  can  scarce  restrain  himself  from  setting  his 
Legions  in  the  neighboring  camp  at  once  to  the  work  of 
slaughter.  But  he  is,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  in  this 
held  back  and  calmed  by  the  more  bloody-minded,  but 
yet  more  politic,  Pronto.  Fronto  would  have  the  work 
thoroughly  accomplished  ;  and  that  it  may  be  so,  he  ad 
heres  to  a  certain  system  of  order  and  apparent  modera 
tion,  from  which  Aurelian  would  willingly  break  away 
and  at  once  flood  the  streets  of  Rjme  in  a  new  deluge 
of  blood.  Livia  is  now  miserable  and  sad,  as  she  was, 
but  a  few  months  ago,  gay  and  happy.  At  the  palace, 
she  tells  us,  she  hears  no  sounds  but  the  harsh  and  gra 
ting  voice  of  Fronto,  or  the  smooth  and  silvery  tones  of 
Varus.  As  soon,  she  says,  as  Aurelian  shall  have  de 
parted  for  the  East,  shall  she  dwell  either  with  us,  or 
fly  to  the  quiet  retreat  of  Zenobia,  at  Tibur. 

The  day  appointed  for  the  death  of  Probus  has  arri 
ved,  and  never  did  the  sun  shine  upon  a  fairer  one  in 
Rome.  It  seems  as  if  some  high  festival  were  come, 
for  all  Rome  is  afoot.  Heralds  parade  the  streets,  pro 
claiming  the  death  of  Probus,  Felix,  and  other  Chris 
tians,  in  the  Flavian,  at  the  hour  of  noon.  At  the  cor 
ner  of  every  street,  and  at  all  the  public  places,  the 
name  of  "  Probus  the  Christian,  condemned  to  the 
beasts,"  meets  the  eye.  Long  before  the  time  of  the 
sacrifice  had  come,  the  avenues  leading  to  the  theatre, 
and  all  the  neighborhood  of  it,  were  crowded  with  the 
excited  thousands  of  those  who  desired  to  witness  the 
spectacle.  There  was  little  of  beauty,  wealth,  fashion, 


AU  RE  LI  AN  .  215 

or  nobility  in  Rome  that  was  not  represented  in  the 
dense  multitude  that  filled  the  seats  of  the  boundless 
amphitheatre.  Probus  had  said  to  me,  at  my  last  inter 
view  with  him,  '  Piso,  you  may  think  it  a  weakness  in 
me,  but  I  would  that  one  at  least,  whose  faith  is  mine, 
and  whose  heart  beats  as  mine,  might  be  with  me  at  the 
final  hour.  I  would,  at  that  hour,  meet  one  eye  that 
can  return  the  glance  of  friendship.  It  will  be  a  source 
of  strength  to  me,  and  I  know  not  how  much  I  may  need 
it.'  I  readily  promised  what  he  asked,  though,  as  you, 
may  believe,  Fausta,  I  would  willingly  have  been  spared 
the  trial.  So  that  making  part  of  that  tide  pouring  to 
ward  the  centre,  I  found  myself  borne  along  at  the  ap 
pointed  hour  to  the  scene  of  suffering  and  death. 

As  I  was  about  to  pass  beneath  the  arched-way  which 
leads  to  the  winding  passages  within,  I  heard  myself 
saluted  by  a  well-known  voice,  and,  turning  to  the  quar 
ter  whence  it  came,  beheld  Isaac,  but  without  his  pack, 
and  in  a  costume  so  different  from  that  which  he  usually 
wears,  that  at  first  I  doubted  the  report  of  my  eyes.  But 
the  sound  of  his  voice,  as  he  again  addressed  me,  as 
sured  me  it  could  be  no  other  than  he. 

'  Did  I  not  tell  thee,  Piso,'  said  he,  «  that,  when  the 
Christian  was  in  his  straits,  there  thou  wouldst  see  the 
Jew,  looking  on,  and  taking  his  sport  ?  This  is  for 
Probus  the  very  end  I  looked  for.  And  how  should  it 
be  otherwise  ?  Is  he  to  live  and  prosper,  who  aims  at 
the  life  of  that  to  which  God  has  given  being  and  au 
thority  ?  Shall  he  flourish  in  pride  and  glory  who  hath 
helped  to  pull  down  what  God  built  u.p  ?  Not  so,  Piso. 
'Tis  no  wonder  that  the  Christians  are  now  in  this 
plight.  It  could  be  no  otherwise.  And  in  every  corner 


216  AURELIAN. 

of  this  huge  fabric  wilt  thou  behold  some  of  my  tribe 
looking  on  upon  this  sight,  or  helping  at  the  sacrifice. 
Yet,  as  thou  knowest,  I  am  not  among  them.  There  is 
no  hope  for  Probus,  Piso  ?  ' 

*  None,  Isaac.     All  Rome  could  not  save  him.' 

'  Truly,'  rejoined  the  Jew,  '  he  is  in  the  lion's  den. 
Yet  as  the  prophet  Daniel  was  delivered,  so  may  it  be 
to  him.  God  is  over  all.' 

c  God  is,  indeed,  over  all,'  I  said  ;  '  but  he  leaves  us 
with  our  natural  passions,  affections,  and  reason,  to  work 
out  our  own  way  through  the  world.  We  are  the 
better  for  it.' 

'  Doubtless,'  said  Isaac.  *  Yet  at  times,  when  we  look 
not  for  it,  and  from  a  quarter  we  dream  not  of,  deliver 
ance  comes.  So  was  it  to  Abraham,  when  he  thought 
that  by  his  own  hand  Isaac  his  son  must  be  slain.  But 
why  to  a  Christian  should  I  speak  of  these  ?  Dost 
thou  witness  the  sacrifice,  Piso?  ' 

*  Yes,  at  the  earnest  entreaty  of  Probus  himself.' 

*  I,  too,  shall  be  there.     We  shall  both  then  see  what 
shall  come  to  pass.' 

So  saying,  he  moved  away  toward  the  lower  vaults, 
where  are  the  cages  of  the  beasts,  and  I  passed  on  and 
ascended  the  flight  of  steps  leading  to  that  part  of  the 
interior  where  it  is  the  custom  of  Aurelian  to  sit.  The 
Emperor  was  not  as  yet  arrived,  but  the  amphitheatre, 
in  every  part  of  it,  was  already  filled  with  its  countless 
thousands.  All  were  seated  idly  conversing,  or  gazing 
about  as  at  the  ordinary  sports  of  the  place.  The  hum 
of  so  many  voices  struck  the  ear  like  the  distant  roar  ol 
the  ocean.  How  few  of  those  thousands  —  not  one  per 
haps —  knew  for  what  it  was  that  Probus  and  his  com* 


AURELIAN.  21? 

pariions  were  now  about  to  suffer  a  most  cruel  and  ab 
horred  death  !  They  knew  that  their  name  was  Chris 
tian,  and  that  Christian  was  of  the  same  meaning  as 
enemy  of  the  gods  and  of  the  empire  ;  but  what  it  was 
which  made  the  Christian  so  willing  to  die,  why  it  was 
he  was  so  ready  to  come  to  that  place  of  horror  and 
give  up  his  body  to  the  beasts — this  they  knew  not.  It 
wus  to  them  a  riddle  they  could  not  read.  And  they 
sat  and  looked  on  with  the  same  vacant  unconcern,  or  with 
the  same  expectation  of  pleasure,  as  if  they  were  to  wit 
ness  the  destruction  of  murderers  and  assassins.  This 
would  not  have  been  so,  had  that  class  of  the  citizens  of 
Rome,  or  any  of  them,  been  present,  who,  regarding  us 
with  favor,  and  hoping  that  somewhat  might  yet  come  of 
our  religion  advantageous  to  the  world,  maintain  a  neu 
tral  position.  These  were  not  there  ;  owing,  both  to 
their  disinclination  to  witness  scenes  so  brutalizing,  and 
to  apprehensions  lest  they  should  be  betrayed  into 
words  or  acts  of  sympathy,  that  might  lead  to  their  being 
confounded  with  the  obnoxious  tribe,  and  exposed  to  the 
like  dangers.  All,  therefore,  within  the  embrace  of  those 
wide-spreading  walls  were  of  one  heart  and  one  mind. 

While  I  sat  waiting  the  coming  of  the  Emperor,  and 
surrounded  by  those  whom  I  knew  not  nor  had  ever 
seen,  one  who  occupied  a  part  of  the  same  seat,  accom 
panied  by  his  wife  and  daughters,  said  to  me, 

4  'Tis  to  be  hoped,  sir,  that  so  terrible  an  example  as 
this  will  have  its  effect  in  deterring  others  from  joining 
this  dangerous  superstition ,  and  not  only  that,  but  strike 
so  wholesome  a  terror  into  those  who  already  profess  it, 
that  they  shall  at  once  abandon  it,  and  so  the  general 
19  VOL.  i. 


*1  A  a  R  E  LI  AN  . 

massacre  of  them  riot  be  necessary  ;  which,  indeed,  I 
should  be  loth  to  witness  in  the  streets  of  Rome.' 

'  If  you  knew,'  I  replied,  '  for  what  it  is  these  people 
are  condemned  to  such  sufferings,  you  would  not,  I  am 
sure,  express  yourself  in  that  manner.  You  know,  I 
may  presume,  only  what  common  report  has  brought  to 
your  ears.' 

'  Nothing  else,  I  admit,'  he  replied.  *  My  affairs  con 
fine  me  from  morning  till  night.  I  am  a  secretary,  sir, 
in  the  office  of  the  public  mint.  I  have  no  time  to  in 
form  myself  of  the  exact  truth  of  any  thing  but  columns 
of  figures.  I  am  not  afraid  to  say  there  is  not  a  better 
accountant  within  the  walls  of  Rome.  But  as  for  other 
things,  especially  as  to  the  truth  in  matters  of  this  sort, 
I  know  nothing,  and  can  learn  nothing.  I  follow  on  as 
he  world  leads.' 

'I  dare  say,'  I  replied,  '  you  have  spoken  the  truth. 
And  every  one  here  present,  were  he  to  speak,  would 
make  very  much  the  same  declaration.  So  here  are 
eighty  thousand  citizens  of  Rome  assembled  to  witness 
the  destruction  of  men,  of  whose  crime  they  know  noth 
ing,  yet  rejoicing  in  their  death  as  if  they  were  murder 
ers  or  robbers  !  Were  you  charged  with  a  false  enu 
meration  of  your  columns,  would  not  you  hold  it  basest 
injustice  to  suffer  punishment  before  pains  were  taken 
to  learn  the  exact  truth  in  the  case  ?  But  are  you  not 
acting  the  same  unjust  and  cruel  part — with  all  who 
are  here  —  in  looking  on  and  approving  the  destruction 
of  these  men,  about  whose  offence  you  know  nothing, 
and  have  taken  no  pains  to  inquire  ? ' 

1  By  the  gods  ! '  exclaimed  his  wife,  who  seemed  the 
sharper  spirit  of  the  two,  '  I  believe  we  have  a  Christian 


AU  R  E  LI  A  N.  219 

here  !  But  however  that  may  be,  we  should  be  prettily 
set  to  work,  whenever  some  entertainment  is  in  prospect, 
to  puzzle  ourselves  about  the  right  and  the  wrong  in  the 
matter.  If  we  are  to  believe  you,  sir,  whenever  a  poor 
wretch  is  to  be  thrown  to  the  beasts,  before  we  can  be 
in  at  the  sport  we  must  settle  the  question  —  under  the 
law  I  suppose  —  whether  the  condemnation  be  just  or 
not  !  Ha  !  ha  !  Our  life  were  in  that  case  most  light 
and  agreeable  !  The  Prefect  himself  would  not  have 
before  him  a  more  engaging  task.  Gods  !  Cornelia  dear, 
see  what  a  pair  of  eyes  ! ' 

*  Where,  mother  ?  ' 

'  There  !  in  that  old  man's  head.  They  burn  and 
twinkle  like  coals  of  fire.  I  should  think  he  must  be  a 
Christian.' 

I  was  not  sorry  that  a  new  object  had  attracted  the  at 
tention  of  this  lady  of  the  secretary  ;  and  looking  where 
she  pointed,  I  saw  Isaac  planted  below  us  and  near  the 
arena.  At  the  same  moment  the  long  peal  of  trumpets, 
and  the  shouts  of  the  people  without,  gave  note  of  the 
approach  and  entrance  of  the  Emperor.  In  a  moment 
more,  with  his  swift  step,  he  entered  the  amphitheatre, 
and  strode  to  the  place  set  apart  for  him,  the  whole  mul 
titude  rising  and  saluting  him  with  a  burst  of  welcome 
that  might  have  been  heard  beyond  the  walls  of  Rome. 
The  Emperor  acknowledged  the  salutation  by  rising 
from  his  seat  and  lifting  the  crown  from  his  head.  He 
was  instantly  seated  again,  and  at  a  sign  from  him  the 
herald  made  proclamation  of  the  entertainments  which 
were  to  follow.  He  who  was  named  as  the  first  to 
suffer  was  Probus. 

When  I  heard  his  name  pronounced,  with  the  punish- 


220  AURELlAN. 

ment  which  awaited  him,  my  resolution  to  remain  for 
sook  me,  and  I  turned  to  rush  from  the  theatre.  Bu 
my  recollection  of  Probus's  earnest  entreaties  that  I 
would  be  there,  restrained  me  and  I  returned  to  my  seat. 
I  considered,  that  as  I  would  attend  the  dying  bed  of  a 
friend,  so  I  was  clearly  bound  to  remain  where  I  was, 
and  wait  for  the  last  moments  of  this  my  more  than  Chris 
tian  friend  ;  and  the  circumstance  that  his  death  was 
to  be  shocking  and  harrowing  to  the  friendly  heart  was 
not  enough  to  absolve  me  from  the  heavy  obligation.  I 
therefore  kept  my  place,  and  awaited  with  patience  the 
event. 

I  had  waited  not  long  when,  from  beneath  that  ex 
tremity  of  the  theatre  where  I  was  sitting,  Probus  was 
led  forth  and  conducted  to  the  centre  of  the  arena,  where 
was  a  short  pillar  to  which  it  was  customary  to  bind 
the  sufferers.  Probus,  as  he  entered,  seemed  rather 
like  one  who  came  to  witness  what  was  there  than  to  be 
himself  the  victim,  so  free  was  his  step,  so  erect  his 
form.  In  his  face  there  might  indeed  be  seen  an  ex 
pression,  that  could  only  dwell  on  the  countenance  of 
one  whose  spirit  was  already  gone  beyond  the  earth,  and 
holding  converse  with  things  unseen.  There  is  always 
much  of  this  in  the  serene,  uplifted  face  of  this  remar 
kable  man  ;  but  it  was  now  there  written  in  lines  so 
bold  and  deep,  that  there  could  have  been  few  in  that 
vast  assembly  but  must  have  been  impressed  by  it,  as 
never  before  by  aught  human.  It  must  have  been  this, 
which  brought  so  deep  a  silence  upon  that  great  multi 
tude — not  the  mere  fact  that  an  individual  was  about  to 
be  torn  by  lions — that  is  an  almost  daily  pastime.  For 
it  was  so,  that  when  he  first  made  his  appearance,  and 


AURE  LI  A  N  .  221 

as  he  moved  toward  the  centre,  turned  and  looked  round 
upon  the  crowded  seats  rising  to  the  heavens,  the  people 
neither  moved  nor  spoke,  but  kept  their  eyes  fastened 
upon  him  as  by  some  spell  which  they  could  not  break. 

When  he  had  reached  the  pillar,  and  he  who  had 
conducted  him  was  about  to  bind  him  to  it,  it  was  plain, 
by  what  at  that  distance  we  could  observe,  that  Probus 
was  entreating  him  to  desist  and  leave  him  at  liberty  ; 
in  which  he  at  length  succeeded,  for  that  person  re 
turned,  leaving  him  alone  and  unbound.  O  sight  of 
misery  !  —  he  who  for  the  humblest  there  present  would 
have  performed  any  office  of  love,  by  which  the  least 
good  should  redound  to  them,  left  alone  and  defenceless, 
they  looking  on  and  scarcely  pitying  his  cruel  fate  ! 

When  now  he  had  stood  there  not  many  minutes,  one 
of  the  doors  of  the  vivaria  was  suddenly  thrown  back, 
and  bounding  forth  with  a  roar,  that  seemed  to  shake 
the  walls  of  the  theatre,  a  lion  of  huge  dimensions  leap 
ed  upon  the  arena.  Majesty  and  power  were  inscribed 
upon  his  lordly  limbs  ;  and  as  he  stood  there  where  he 
had  first  sprung,  and  looked  round  upon  the  multitude, 
how  did  his  gentle  eye  and  noble  carriage,  with  which 
no  one  for  a  moment  could  associate  meanness,  or  cruel 
ty,  or  revenge,  cast  shame  upon  the  human  monsters 
assembled  to  behold  a  solitary,  unarmed  man  torn  limb 
from  limb  !  When  he  had  in  this  way  looked  upon  that 
cloud  of  faces,  he  then  turned  and  moved  round  the 
arena  through  its  whole  circumference,  still  looking  up 
wards  upon  those  who  filled  the  seats  —  not  till  he  had 
come  again  to  the  point  from  which  he  started,  so  much 
as  noticing  him  who  stood,  his  victim,  in  the  midst. 
19*  VOL.  ii. 


222  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

Then  —  as  if  apparently  for  the  first  time  becoming  con 
scious  of  his  presence  —  he  caught  the  form  of  Probus  ; 
and  moving  slowly  towards  him,  looked  steadfastly  up- 
upon  him,  receiving  in  return  the  settled  gaze  of  the 
Christian.  Standing  there,  still,  awhile  —  each  looking 
upon  the  other  —  he  then  walked  round  him,  then  ap 
proached  nearer,  making,  suddenly  and  for  a  moment, 
those  motions  which  indicate  the  roused  appetite  ;  but 
as  it  were  in  the  spirit  of  self-rebuke,  he  immediately 
retreated  a  few  paces  and  lay  down  in  the  sand,  stretch 
ing  out  his  head  toward  Probus,  and  closing  his  eyes  as 
if  for  sleep. 

The  people,  who  had  watched  in  silence,  and  with 
the  interest  of  those  who  wait  for  their  entertainment, 
were  both  amazed  and  vexed,  at  what  now  appeared  to 
be  the  dulness  and  stupidity  of  the  beast.  When  how 
ever  he  moved  not  from  his  place,  but  seemed  as  if  he 
were  indeed  about  to  fall  into  a  quiet  sleep,  those  who  oc 
cupied  the  lower  seats  began  both  to  cry  out  to  him  and 
shake  at  him  their  caps,  and  toss  about  their  arms  in  the 
hope  to  rouse  him.  But  it  was  all  in  vain  ;  and  at  the 
command  of  the  Emperor  he  was  driven  back  to  his  den. 

Again  a  door  of  the  vivaria  was  thrown  open,  and 
another  of  equal  size,  but  of  a  more  alert  and  rapid  step, 
broke  forth,  and,  as  if  delighted  with  his  sudden  liberty 
and  the  ample  range,  coursed  round  and  round  the  are 
na,  wholly  regardless  both  of  the  people  and  of  Probus, 
intent  only  as  it  seemed  upon  his  own  amusement. 
And  when  at  length  he  discovered  Probus  standing  in 
h[s  place,  it  was  but  to  bound  toward  him  as  in  frolic, 
and  then  wheel  away  in  pursuit  of  a  pleasure  he  es 
teemed  more  highly  than  the  satisfying  of  his  hunger. 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  223 

At  this,  the  people  were  not  a  little  astonished,  and 
many  who  were  near  me  hesitated  not  to  say,  "  that 
there  might  be  some  design  of  the  gods  in  this."  Oth 
ers  said  plainly,  but  not  with  raised  voices,  "  An  omen ! 
an  omen  !"  At  the  same  time  Isaac  turned  and  looked 
at  me  with  an  expression  of  countenance  which  I  could 
not  interpret.  Aurelian  meanwhile  exhibited  many 
signs  of  impatience  ;  and  when  it  was  evident  the  ani 
mal  could  not  be  wrought  up,  either  by  the  cries  of  the 
people,  or  of  the  keepers,  to  any  act  of  violence,  he  too 
was  taken  away.  But  when  a  third  had  been  let  loose, 
and  with  no  better  effect,  nay,  with  less  —  for  he,  when 
he  had  at  length  approached  Probus,  fawned  upon  him, 
and  laid  himself  at  his  feet  —  the  people,  superstitious 
as  you  know  beyond  any  others,  now  cried  out  aloud, 
"  An  omen  !  an  omen ! "  and  made  the  sign  that  Probus 
should  be  spared  and  removed. 

Aurelian  himself  seemed  almost  of  the  same  mind, 
and  I  can  hardly  doubt  would  have  ordered  him  to  be 
released,  but  that  Fronto  at  that  moment  approached 
him,  and  by  a  few  of  those  words,  which,  coming  from 
him,  are  received  by  Aurelian  as  messages  from  Hea 
ven,  put  within  him  a  new  and  different  mind  ;  for  ris 
ing  quickly  from  his  seat  he  ordered  the  keeper  of  the 
vivaria  to  be  brought  before  him.  When  he  appeared 
below  upon  the  sands,  Aurelian  cried  out  to  him, 

'  Why,  knave,  dost  thou  weary  out  our  patience  thus 
—  letting  forth  beasts  already  over-fed  ?  Do  thus  again, 
and  thou  thyself  shall  be  thrown  to  them.  Art  thou 
too  a  Christian  ?' 

1  Great  Emperor,'  replied  the  keeper,  « than  those  1 
have  now  let  loose,  there  are  not  larger  nor  fiercer  ia 


224  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

the  imperial  dens,  and  since  the  sixth  hour  of  yesterday 
they  have  tasted  nor  food  nor  drink.  Why  they  have 
thus  put  off  their  nature  'tis  hard  to  guess,  unless  the 
general  cry  be  taken  for  the  truth,  "  that  the  gods  have 
touched  them." 

Aurelian  was  again  seen  to  waver,  when  a  voice  from 
the  benches  cried  out, 

*  It  is,  O  Emperor,   but   another   Christian    device  ! 
Forget  not  the  voice  from  the  temple  !    The  Christians, 
who  claim  powers  over  demons,  bidding  them  go  and 
come    at  pleasure,    may  well   be   thought   capable    to 
change,  by  the  magic  imputed  to  them,  the  nature  of  a 
beast.' 

*  I  doubt  not,'  said  the  Emperor,  *  but  it  is  so.    Slave  ! 
throw  up  now  the  doors  of  all  thy  vaults,  and  let  us  see 
whether  both  lions  and  tigers  be  not  too  much  for  this 
new  necromancy.     If  it  be  the  gods  who  interpose,  they 
can  shut  the  mouths  of  thousands  as  of  one. 

At  those  cruel  words,  the  doors  of  the  vivaria  were  at 
once  flung  open,  and  an  hundred  of  their  fierce  tenants, 
maddened  both  by  hunger  and  the  goads  that  had  been 
applied,  rushed  forth,  and  in  the  fury  with  which  in  a 
single  mass  they  fell  upon  Probus — then  kneeling  upon 
the  sands — and  burying  him  beneath  them,  no  one  could 
behold  his  fate,  nor,  when  that  dark  troop  separated  and 
ran  howling  about  the  arena  in  search  of  other  victims, 
could  the  eye  discover  the  least  vestige  of  that  holy 

man. I  then  fled  from  the  theatre  as  one  who  flies 

from  that  which  is  worse  than  death. 

Felix  was  next  offered  up,  as  I  have  learned,  and  after 
him  more  than  fourscore  of  the  Christians  of  Rome. 


A  B  U  E  L  I  A  N  .  225 

Rome  continues  the  same  scene  of  violence,  cruelty 
and  blood.  Each  moment  are  the  miserable  Christians 
dragged  through  the  streets  either  to  the  tribunals  of  the 
judges,  or  thence,  having  received  their  doom,  to  the 
prisons. 

Seeing,  Fausta,  that  the  Emperor  is  resolved  that  we 
shall  not  be  among  the  sufferers,  and  that  he  is  also  re 
solved  upon  the  total  destruction  of  all  within  the  walls 
of  Rome,  from  which  purpose  no  human  power  can  now 
divert  him,  we  feel  ourselves  no  longer  bound  to  this 
spot,  and  are  determined  to  withdraw  from  it,  either  to 
Tibur  or  else  to  you.  Were  there  any  office  of  protec 
tion  or  humanity,  which  it  were  in  our  power  to  perform 
toward  the  accused  or  the  condemned,  you  may  believe 
that  we  should  remain  fixed  to  the  post  of  duty.  But 
the  fearful  sweep  which  is  making,  and  yet  to  be  made, 
of  every  living  soul  in  Rome,  leaves  nothing  for  us  to 
do  but  to  stand  idle  and  horror-struck  witnesses  of  suf 
ferings  and  wrongs,  which  we  can  do  nothing  to  avert  or 
relieve.  Portia  shares  our  sorrows,  and  earnestly  entreats 
us  to  depart,  consenting  herself  to  accompany  us. 

After  seeing  Zenobia  at  Tibur,  and  conversing  with 
her  and  Livia,  whom  I  found  there,  we  have  resolved 
upon  Palmyra,  and  already  have  I  engaged  a  vessel 
bound  to  Berytus.  A  brief  interval  will  alone  be  needful 
for  our  preparations.  Portia  goes  with  us. 

i 

In  the  midst  of  these  preparations,  news  is  brought 
us  by  Milo  that  Aurelian,  hastened  by  accounts  of  dis 
turbances  in  the  army,  has  suddenly  started  for  Thrace. 


226  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

But  I  see  not  that  this  can  interfere  with  our  movements, 

unless  indeed What  can  mean  this  sudden  uproar 

in  the  streets  ? — and  now  within  the  house  itself. 

My  fears  are  true 

Fausta,  I  am  a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of  Fronto.  I 
now  write  in  chains,  and  Julia  stands  at  my  side  bound 
also.  I  have  obtained  with  difficulty  this  grace,  to  seal 
my  letter,  and  bid  you  farewell. 


THUS  were  Piso  and  Julia  at  length  in  the  grasp  of 
the  cruel  and  relentless  Fronto.  Aurelian's  sudden  de 
parture  from  Rome  placed  the  whole  conduct  of  the  en 
terprise  he  had  undertaken  in  the  hands  of  Varus  and 
the  priest,  who  were  left  by  the  Emperor  with  full  pow 
ers  to  carry  on  and  complete  the  work  which  he  had  be 
gun.  It  was  his  purpose  however,  so  soon  as  the  diffi 
culties  in  the  army  should  be  composed,  himself  imme 
diately  to  return,  and  remain  till  the  task  were  ended  — 
the  great  duty  done.  But,  as  many  causes  might  con 
spire  to  prevent  this,  they  were  clothed  with  sovereign 
authority  to  do  all  that  the  welfare  of  the  city  and  the 
defence  and  security  of  religion  might  require.  I  will 
not  charge  Aurelian  wfth  an  unnecessary  absence  at  this 
juncture,  that  so  he  might  turn  over  to  his  tools  a  work, 
at  which  his  own  humanity  and  conscience,  hardened  as 
they  were,  revolted — or  rather  that  they,  voluntarily,  an*. 


AU  RE  LI  AN.  227 

moved  only  by  their  own  superstitious  and  malignant 
minds  might  then  be  free  to  do  what  they  might  feel 
safe  in  believing  would  be  an  acceptable  service  to  their 
great  master.  I  will  still  believe,  that,  had  he  intended 
the  destruction  of  Piso  and  Julia,  he  would,  with  that 
courage  which  is  natural  to  him,  have  fearlessly  and 
unshrinkingly  done  the  deed  himself.  I  will  rather  sup 
pose  that  his  ministers,  without  warrant  from  him,  and 
prompted  by  their  own  hate  alone,  ventured  upon  that 
dark  attempt,  trusting,  when  it  should  have  once  been 
accomplished,  easily  to  obtain  the  pardon  of  him,  who, 
however  he  might  affect  or  feel  displeasure  for  a  moment, 
would  secretly  applaud  and  thank  them  for  the  deed. 

However  this  may  be,  Aurelian  suddenly  departed 
from  Rome,  and  Pronto  and  Varus  filled  his  place  ;  and 
their  first  act  of  authority  was  the  seizure  of  Piso  and 
the  Princess.  At  Tibur  we  knew  nothing  of  these  events 
till  they  were  passed  ;  we  caring  not  to  hear  of  the  daily 
horrors  that  were  acted  in  the  city,  and  feeling  as  secure 
of  the  safety  of  Piso  and  Julia  as  of  our  own. 

It  was  on  a  gloomy  winter  evening  when  they  were 
borne  away  from  their  home  upon  the  Coelian  to  the 
dark  vaults  beneath  the  Temple  of  the  Sun,  Fronto's 
own  province.  But  here  again  let  Piso  speak  for  him 
self,  as  I  find  recorded  in  the  fragment  of  a  letter. 

*  *  *  The  darkness  of  the  night  scarce  per 
mitted  me  to  see,  he  says,  whither  we  were  borne,  bui 
when  the  guard  stopped  and  required  us  to  alight  from 
the  carriage  in  which  we  had  been  placed,  I  perceived 
that  we  were  at  the  steps  of  the  temple  —  victims  there 
fore  in  his  own  regions  of  a  man,  as  much  more  savage 


228  A  TJ  E  E  L  1  A  N  . 

than  Auielian,  as  he  than  a  beast  of  the  forest.  We 
were  denied  the  happiness  of  being  confined  in  the  same 
place,  but  were  thrust  into  separate  dungeons,  divided 
by  walls  of  solid  rock.  Here,  when  wearied  out  by 
watching,  I  fell  asleep.  How  long  this  lasted  I  cannot 
tell  ;  I  was  wakened  by  the  withdrawing  of  the  bolts 
of  my  door.  One,  bearing  a  dim  light,  slowly  opening 
the  door,  entered.  Forgetting  my  condition  I  essayed 
to  rise,  but  my  heavy  chains  bound  me  to  the  floor. 
Soon  as  the  noise  of  my  motion  caught  the  ear  of  the 
person  who  had  entered,  he  said, 

*  So  ;  all  is  safe.  I  am  not  thy  keeper,  sir  Piso,  but 
'tis  my  province  to  keep  the  keeper —  that  is —  visit  thee 
every  hour  to  see  that  thou  art  here.  Yet,  by  the  gods  ! 
if  you  Christians  have  that  power  of  magic,  which  is 
commonly  reported  of  you,  I  see  not  of  what  use  it  were 
to  watch  you  thus.  How  is  it  with  thee,  most  noble 
Piso  V 

1  That  is  of  little  moment ;  but  tell  me,  if  there  is  any 
thing  human  in  thee,  where  is  the  Princess  Julia,  and 
what  is  her  fate  ?' 

'Be.  not  too  much  concerned,'  he  replied.  'She  is 
safe,  I  warrant  you.  None  but  Pronto  deals  with  her.' 

'  Pronto  !'  I  could  only  say. 

'  Yes,  Pronto.  Fear  not,  he  is  an  honorable  man  and 
a  holy  priest.' 

4  Pronto  !'  I  was  about  to  add  more,  but  held  my 
peace  ;  knowing  well  that  what  I  might  say  could  avail 
nothing  for  us,  and  might  be  turned  against  us.  .1  only 
asked,  '  why  there  was  such  delay  in  examining  and 
condemning  us  ?' 

'  That  is  a  question  truly,'  he    replied  ;    '  but  not  so 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  229 

easy  to  be  answered.  Few  know  the  reason,  that  I  can 
say.  But  what  is  there  in  the  heart  of  Fronto  that  is 
kept  from  Curio  ?  Aie  thy  chains  easy,  Piso  ?' 

4 1  would  that  they  might  be  lengthened.  Here  am  I 
bound  to  the  floor  without  so  much  as  the  power  to  stand 
upright.  This  is  useless  suffering.' 

'  'Twas  so  ordered  by  Fronto  ;  but  then  if  there  is  one 
in  Rome  who  can  take  a  liberty  with  him,  I  know  well 
who  he  is.  So  hold  thou  the  lamp,  Piso,  and  I  will 
ease  thee  ;'  and,  like  one  accustomed  to  the  art,  he  soon 
struck  apart  the  chain,  and  again  uniting  it  left  me  room 
both  to  stand  and  move. 

'  There,'  said  he,  as  he  took  again  the  lamp,  *  for  one 
who  hates  a  Christian  as  he  does  death,  that's  a  merciful 
deed.  But  I  can  tell  thee  one  thing,  that  it  will  not 
ease  thee  long.' 

'  That  I  can  believe.  But  why,  once  more,  is  there 
this  delay  ?' 

'  I  know  not,  Piso,  whether  I  should  tell  thee,  but  as  1 
doubt  not  Fronto  would,  were  he  here,  I  surely  may  do 
the  same,  for  if  there  are  two  men  in  Rome,  Piso,  whose 
humors  are  the  same  and  jump  together,  I  and  Fronto 
are  they.  There  is  a  dispute  then,  noble  Piso,  between 
Varus  and  Fronto  about  the  lady  Julia  — '  and  without 
heeding  my  cries  the  wretch  turned  and  left  the  vault, 
closing  after  him  the  heavy  door. 

How  many  days,  in  the  torture  of  a  suspense  and  ig 
norance  worse  than  death,  I  lay  here,  I  cannot  tell.  Cu 
rio  came  as  often  as  he  said  to  see  that  all  was  safe,  but 
there  was  little  said  by  either  ;  he  would  examine  my 
chain  and  then  depart.  On  the  night — the  last  night  I 
20  VOL.  ii. 


230 


AURELT 


passed  in  that  agony  —  preceding  my  examination  by 
Varus  and  Pronto,  I  was  disturbed  from  my  slumbers  by 
the  entrance  of  Curio.  He  advanced  with  as  it  seemed 
to  me  an  unusually  cautious  step,  and  I  rose  expecting 
some  communication  of  an  uncommon  nature.  But  what 
was  my  amazement,  as  the  light  fell  upon  the  face  of  him 
who  bore  it,  to  see  not  Curio  but  Isaac.  His  finger  was 
on  his  lips,  while  in  his  hand  he  held  the  implements 
necessary  for  sawing  apart  my  chains. 

4  Piso  ! '  said  he  in  a  whispered  tone,    '  thou  art  now 

free,  —  I  could  not  save  Probus,  but  I  can   save    thee 

horses  fleet  as  the  winds  await  thee  and  the  Princess 
beyond  the  walls,  and  at  the  Tiber's  mouth  a  vessel 
takes  you  to  Berytus.  Curio  lies  drunk  or  dead,  it 
matters  little  which,  in  a  neighboring  vault.'  And  he 
set  down  the  lamp  and  seized  my  chain.  The  strange 
devotion  of  this  man  moved  me  ;  and,  were  it  but  to 
reward  his  love,  I  could  almost  have  slipped  my  bonds. 
But  other  thoughts  prevailed. 

'  Isaac,  you  have  risked  your  life  and  that  of  your 
household  in  this  attempt  ;  and  sorry  am  I  that  I  can 
pay  thee  only  with  my  thanks.  I  cannot  fly.' 

'  Piso !  thou  surely  art  not  mad  ?  Why  shouldst 
thou  stay  in  the  hands  of  these  pagan  butchers — ' 

'  Were  this,  Isaac,  but  the  private  rage  of  Fronto, 
gladly  would  I  go  with  thee  —  more  gladly  would  I 
give  Julia  to  thy  care.  But  it  is  not  so.  It  is,  as  thou 
knowe«t,  for  our  faith  that  we  are  here  and  thus  ;  and 
shall  we  shrink  from  what  Probus  bore  ? ' 

'  Piso,  believe  me  —  'tis  not  for  thy  faith  alone  that 
thou  art  here,  but  for  thy  riches,  and  thy  wife—' 

fc  Isaac  !  thou  hast  been  deceived.     Sooner  would  they 


ATI  R  fi  LI  A  N  .  231 

throw  themselves  into  a  lion's  den  for  sport,  than  brave 
the  wrath  of  Aurelian  for  such  a  crime.  Thou  hast 
been  deceived.' 

'  I  have  it,'  replied  the  Jew,  '  from  the  mouth  of  the 
miscreant  Curio,  who  has  told  me  of  fierce  disputes, 
overheard  by  him,  between  Varus  and  Pronto  concern 
ing  the  lady  Julia.' 

*  Their  dispute  has  been,  doubtless,  whether    she  too 
should  be  destroyed  ;    for  to  Fronto   is  well  known  the 
constant  love  which  Aurelian  still  bears  her.     Curio  is 
not  always  right,' 

*  And  is  this  my  answer,  Piso  ? '  said  Isaac.     «  And, 
if  I   cannot  prevail  with   thee,  shall   I   not  still  see  thy 
wife  ?  Over  her  perchance — ' 

«  No,  Isaac  ;  it  would  be  of  no  avail.  Her  answer 
would  be  the  same  as  mine.' 

'  Nevertheless,  Piso,  I  believe  that  what  I  have  heard 
and  surmised  is  so.  Fronto  and  Varus,  who  have 
played  with  the  great  Aurelian  as  a  toyman  with  his 
images,  may  carry  even  this.' 

'  Were  it  so,  I  put  my  trust  in  God,  and  to  him  com 
mend  myself  and  Julia.  For  this  our  faith  are  we 
ready  to  bear  all  that  man  can  devise  or  do.' 

Seeing  that  further  argument  was  vain,  Isaac,  with 
eyes  that  overflowed  as  any  woman's,  embraced  me  and 
left  the  cell. 

On  the  day  which  followed  the  visit  of  Isaac  was  I 
placed  before  Fronto  and  Varus. 

It  was  in  the  great  room  of  the  temple  that  the  Pre 
fect  and  the  Priest  awaited  their  victims.  It  was  dimly 
illuminated,  so  that  the  remoter  parts  were  lost  in  thick 


232 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 


darkness.  So  far  as  the  eye  could  penetrate  it,  a  crowd 
of  faces  could  be  discerned  in  the  gloom,  of  those  who 
were  there  to  witness  the  scene.  All,  whom  my  sight 
could  separate  from  the  darkness,  were  of  the  Roman 
priesthood,  or  friends  of  Pronto.  Not  that  others  were 
excluded  —  it  was  broad  day,  and  the  act  was  a  public 
one,  and  authorized  by  the  imperial  edict  —  but  that  no 
announcement  of  it  had  been  made  ;  and  by  previous 
concert  the  place  had  been  filled  with  the  priests  and 
subordinate  ministers  of  the  Roman  temples.  I  knew 
therefore  that  not  a  friendly  eye  or  arm  was  there. 
Whatever  it  might  please  those  cruel  judges  to  inflict 
upon  myself  or  Julia,  —  there  was  none  to  remonstrate 
or  interpose.  With  what  emotions,  when  I  had  first 
been  placed  before  those  judges,  did  I  await  the  coming 
of  Julia,  from  whom  I  had  now  been  so  long  parted  ! 
Fervently  did  I  pray  that  the  mercy  of  Pronto  would 
first  doom  her,  that  she  might  be  sure  of  at  least  one 
sympathising  and  pitying  heart. 

On  the  right  of  the  Prefect,  upon  a  raised  platform, 
were  set  the  various  instruments  of  torture  and  death, 
each  attended  by  its  half  naked  minister. 

I  had  not  stood  long,  when  upon  the  other  side  of  the 
room  the  noise  of  the  dividing  crowd  told  me  that  Ju 
lia  was  entering^  and  in  a  moment  more  she  was  stand 
ing  at  a  little  distance  from  me,  and  opposite  Pronto  — 
I  being  opposite  the  Prefect.  Our  eyes  met  once  — and 
no  more.  As  I  could  have  desired,  Pronto  first  addres 
sed  her. 

*  Woman  !  thou  standest  here  charged  with  impiety 
and  denial  of  the  gods  of  Rome  ;  in  other  words,  with 
being  a  follower  of  Christ  the  Nazarene.  That  the 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  233 

Charge  is  true,  witnesses  stand  here  ready  to  affirm. 
Dost  thou  deny  the  charge  ?  Then  will  we  prove  its 
truth.' 

*  I  deny  it  not,'  responded  Julia, '  but  confess  it.  Wit 
nesses  are  not  needed.      The  Christian  witnesses  for 
himself.' 

'  Dost  thou  know  the  penalty  that  waits  on  such  con 
fession  V 

1 1  know  it,  but  do  not  fear  it.' 

4  But  for  thee  to  die  so,  woman,  is  of  ill  example  to  all 
in  Rome.  We  would  rather  change  thee.  -We  would 
not  have  thee  die  the  enemy  of  the  gods,  of  Rome, 
and  of  thyself.  I  ask  thee  then  to  renounce  thy  vain 
impiety  ! ' 

Julia  answered  not. 

' 1  require  thee,  Christian,  to  renounce  Christ ! ' 

Still  Julia  made  no  reply. 

*  Know  you  not,  woman,  I  have  power  to  force  from 
thee  that,  which  thou  wilt  not  say  willingly  ? ' 

'  Thou  hast  no  such  power,  Priest.  Thou  wert  else 
God.' 

*  Thy  tender  frame  cannot  endure  the  torture  of  those 
engines.     It  were  better  spared  such  suffering.' 

*  I  would  gladly  be  spared  that  suffering,'  said  Julia ; 
'  but  not  at  the  expense  of  truth.' 

« Think  not  that  I  will  relent.  Those  irons  shall 
rack  and  rend  thee  in  every  bone  and  joint,  except  thou 
dost  renounce  that  foul  impostor,  whose  curse  now  lies 
heavy  upon  Rome  and  the  world.' 

*  Weary  me  not,  Priest,  with   vain  importunity.     I 
am  a  Christian,  and  a  Christian  will  I  die.' 

20*         VOL.  n. 


234  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N. 

4  Prepare  then  the  rack  ! '  cried  Fronto,  his  passions 
ising  ;  '  that  is  the  medicine  for  obstinacy  such  as  this. 
Now  bind  her  to  it.' 

Hearing  that,  I  wildly   exclaimed, 

'  Priest !  thou  dar'st  not  do  it  for  thy  life  !  Touch 
but  the  hair  of  her  head,  and  thy  life  shall  answer  it. 
Aurelian's  word  is  pledged,  and  thou  dar'st  not  break  it.' 

*  Aurelian  is  far  enough  from  here,'  replied  the  priest. 
*  But  were  he  where  I  am,  thou  vvouldst   see  the  same 
game.     I  am  Aurelian  now.' 

*  Is  this  then  thy  commission,  had  from  Aurelian  ?' 

'  That  matters  not,  young  Piso.  'Tis  enough  for  thee 
to  know  that  Fronto  rules  in  Rome.  No  more  !  Hold 
now  thy  peace  !  Where  an  Empress  has  sued  in  vain, 
there  is  no  room  for  words  from  thee.  Slaves  !  bind 
her,  I  say  !  To  the  rack  with  her  ! ' 

At  that  I  sprang  madly  forward,  thinking  only  of  her 
rescue  from  those  murderous  fangs,  but  was  at  the  same 
instant  drawn  violently  back  both  by  my  chains  and  the 
arms  of  those  who  guarded  me.  The  tormentors  de 
scended  from  their  engines  to  fulfil  the  commands  of 
Fronto,  and,  laying  hold  of  Julia,  bore  her,  without  an 
opposing  word,  or  look,  or  motion,  toward  their  instru 
ments  of  death.  And  they  were  already  binding  her 
limbs  to  the  accursed  wheels,  while  Fronto  and  Varus 
both  drew  nigh  to  gloat  over  her  agonies,  when  a  distant 
sound,  as  of  the  ocean  lashed  by  winds,  broke  upon  the 
ears  of  all  within  that  hell.  Even  the  tormentors  paus 
ed  in  their  work,  and  looked  at  each  other  and  at 
Fronto,  as  if  asking  what  it  should  mean. 

The  silence  of  death  fell  upon  the  crowd  —  every  ear 
strained  to  catch  the  still  growing  sound  and  interpret  it. 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N.  235 

4  'Tis  but  the  winter  wind  ! '  cried  Pronto.  '  On, 
towards,  with  your  work  !' 

But,  ere  the  words  had  left  his  lips,  or  those  demons 
could  wind  the  wheels  of  their  engine,  the  appalling 
tumult  of  a  multitude  rushing  toward  the  temple  became 
too  fearfully  distinct  for  even  Pronto  or  Varus  to  pre 
tend  to  doubt  its  meaning.  But  why  it  was,  or  for  what, 
none  could  guess  ;  only  upon  the  terror-struck  forms  of 
both  the  Prefect  and  the  Priest  might  be  read  apprehen 
sions  of  hostility  that  from  some  quarter  was  aiming  at 
themselves.  Fronto's  voice  was  again  heard  : 

*  Bar  the  great  doors  of  the  temple  !  let  not  the  work 
of  the  gods  be  profanely  violated.' 

But  the  words  were  too  late  ;  for,  while  he  was  yet 
speaking,  O  Fausta,  how  shall  I  paint  my  agony  of  joy  ! 
there  was  heard  from  the  street  and  from  the  porch  of 
the  temple  itself  the  shouts  of  as  it  were  ten  thousand 
voices, 

"  Tacitus  is  Emperor  !"  "  Long  live  the  good 
Tacitus  !" 

Freedom  and  life  were  in  those  cries.  The  crowds 
from  the  streets  swept  in  at  the  doors  like  an  advancing 
torrent.  Varus  and  Pronto,  followed  by  their  myrmi 
dons,  vanished  through  secret  doors  in  the  walls  behind 
them,  and  among  the  first  to  greet  me  and  strike  the 
chains  from  my  limbs  were  Isaac  and  Demetrius. 

*  And  where  is  the  lady  Julia  ?'  cried  Isaac. 

*  There  !' 

He  flew  to  the  platform,  and,  turning  back  the  wheels, 
Julia  was  once  more  in  my  arms. 

*  And  now,'  I  cried,  'what  means  it  all  ?  Am  I  awake 
or  do  I  dream  ? ' 


236  AUR  ELIAN. 

*  You  are  awake,'   replied   Demetrius.     *  The  tyrant 
is  dead  !    and   the   senate   and  people  all  cry  out  for 
Tacitus.' 

I  now  looked  about  me.  The  mob  of  priests  was  fled, 
and  around  me  I  beheld  a  thousand  well-known  faces 
of  those  who  already  had  been  released  from  their  dun 
geons.  Christians,  and  the  friends  of  Christians,  now 
filled  the  temple. 

*  We  were  led  hither,'  continued  Demetrius,  *  by  your 
fast  friend  and  the  friend  I  believe  of  all,  Isaac.     None 
but  he,  and  those  to  whom  he   gave   the  tidings,  knew 
where  the  place  of  your  confinement  was  ;  nor  was  the 
day  of  your  trial  publicly  proclaimed,  although  we  found 
the  temple  open.     But  for  him  we  should  have  been,  I 
fear,  too  late.     But  no  sooner  was  the-  news  of  Aurel- 
ian's  assassination  spread  through  the    city,  than    Isaac 
roused  your  friends  and  led  the  way.' 

As  Demetrius  ceased,  the  name  of  "  Tacitus  Empe 
ror,"  resounded  again  throughout  the  temple,  and  the 
crowds  then  making  for  the  streets,  about  which  they 
careered  mad  with  joy,  we  were  at  liberty  to  depart ; 
and  accompanied  by  Isaac  and  Demetrius,  were  soon 
beneath  our  own  roof  upon  the  Co3lian. 

With  what  joy  then,  in  our  accustomed  place  of  pray 
er,  did  we  pour  forth  our  thanksgivings  to  the  Overrul 
ing  Providence,  who  had  not  only  rescued  ourselves 
from  the  very  jaws  of  death,  but  had  wrought  out  this 
great  deliverance  of  his  whole  people  !  Never  before, 
Fausta,  was  Christianity  in  such  peril ;  never  was  there 
a  man,  who,  like  Aurelian,  united  to  a  native  cruelty 
that  could  behold  the  shedding  of  blood  with  the  same 
indifference  as  the  flowing  of  water,  a  zeal  for  the  gods 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  237 

and  a  love  of  country  that  amounted  quite  to  a  super 
stitious  madness.  Had  not  death  interposed — judging 
as  man  —  no  power  could  have  stayed  that  arm  that 
was  sweeping  us  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 

The  prisons  have  all  been  thrown  open,  and  their 
multitudes  again  returned  to  their  homes.  The  streets 
and  squares  of  the  capital  resound  with  the  joyful  ac 
clamations  of  the  people.  Our  churches  are  once  more 
unbarred,  and  with  the  voice  of  music  and  of  prayer, 
our  people  testify  before  Heaven  their  gratitude  for  this 
infinite  mercy. 

The  suddenness  of  this  transition,  from  utter  hope 
lessness  and  blank  despair  to  this  fulness  of  peace,  and 
these  transports  of  joy,  is  almost  too  much  for  the  frame 
to  bear.  Tears  and  smiles  are  upon  every  face.  We 
know  not  whether  to  weep  or  laugh  ;  and  many,  as  if 
their  reason  were  gone,  both  laugh  and  cry,  utter  pray 
ers  and  jests  in  the  same  breath. 

Soon  as  we  found  ourselves  quietly  in  possession  a- 
gain  of  our  own  home,  surrounded  by  our  own  house 
hold,  Portia  sitting  with  us  and  sharing  our  felicity,  the 
same  feeling  impelled  us  at  once  to  seek  Livia  and  Ze- 
nobia.  The  Empress  was,  as  we  had  already  learned, 
at  Tibur,  whither  she  had  but  this  morning  fled,  upon 
finding  all  interference  of  no  avail,  hoping  —  but  how 
vainly  —  that  possibly  her  mother,  than  whose  name  in 
Rome  none  was  greater,  save  Aurelian's — might  pre 
vail,  where  the  words  had  fallen  but  upon  deaf  ears  and 
stony  hearts.  Our  chariot  bore  us  quickly  beyond  the 
walls,  and  toward  the  palace  of  the  Queen.  As  we 
reached  the  entrance,  Zenobia  at  the  same  moment,  ac- 


238  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

companied  by  Livia,  Nicomachus,  and  her  usual  train, 
was  mounting  her  horse  for  Rome.  Our  meeting  I  need 
not  describe.  That  day  and  evening  were  consecrated 
to  love  and  friendship ;  and  many  days  did  we  pass 
there  in  the  midst  of  satisfactions  of  double  worth,  I 
suppose,  from  the  brief  interval  which  separated  them 
from  the  agonies  which  but  so  lately  we  had  endured. 

All  that  we  have  as  yet  learned  of  Aurelian  is  this, 
that  he  has  met  the  fate  that  has  waited  upon  so  many 
of  the  masters  of  the  world.  His  own  soldiers  have  re 
venged  themselves  upon  him.  Going  forth,  as  it  is  re 
ported,  to  quell  a  sudden  disturbance  in  the  camp,  he 
was  set  upon  by  a  band  of  desperate  men  — made  so  by 
threats  of  punishment  which  he  ever  keeps — and  fell 
pierced  by  a  hundred  swords.  When  more  exact  ac 
counts  arrive,  you  shall  hear  again. 

Tacitus,  who  has  long  been  the  idol  of  the  Senate, 
and  of  the  best  part  of  the  people  of  Rome,  famed,  as 
you  know,  for  his  wisdom  and  his  mild  virtues,  distin 
guished  too  for  his  immense  wealth  and  the  elegance  of 
his  tastes,  was  at  once,  on  the  news  of  Aurelian's  death, 
proclaimed  Emperor ;  not  so  much,  however,  by  any 
formal  act  of  the  Senate,  as  by  the  unanimous  will  of  all 
—  senators  and  people.  For,  in  order  that  the  chance 
of  peace  may  be  the  greater,  the  Senate,  before  any  for 
mal  and  public  decree  shall  be  passed,  will  wait  the 
pleasure  of  the  army.  But,  in  the  meantime,  he  is  as 
truly  Emperor  as  was  Aurelian  —  and  was,  indeed,  at 
the  first  moment  the  news  of  the  assassination  arrived 
His  opinions  concerning  the  Christians  also,  being  well 
known,  the  proclamation  of  his  name  as  Augustus,  was 
Mt  the  same  time  one  of  safety  and  deliverance  to  our 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N.  239 

whole  community.  No  name  in  Rome  could  have 
struck  such  terror  into  the  hearts  of  Varus  and  Fronto, 
as  that  of  Tacitus  —  "  Tacitus  Emperor  !" 

After  our  happy  sojourn  at  Tibur,  and  we  had  once 
more  regained  our  home  upon  the  Coelian,  we  were  not 
long,  as  you  may  believe,  in  seeking  the  street  Janus, 
and  the  dwelling  of  Isaac.  He  was  happily  within,  and 
greeted  us  with  heartiest  welcome. 

*  Welcome,  most  noble  Piso,'  he  cried,  *  to  the  street 
Janus  ! ' 

'  And,'  I  added,  '  to  the  house  of  a  poverty-pinched 
Jew  !  This  resembles  it  indeed  ! ' 

*  Ah  !  are  you  there,  Piso  ?     Well,  well,    if  I  have 
seemed  poor,  thou  knowest  why  it  has  been,  and  for 
what.     Welcome  too,  Princess  !  enter,  I  pray  you,  and 
when  you  shall  be  seated  I  shall  at  once  show  you  what 
you  have  come  to  see,  I  doubt  not  —  my  assortment  of 
diamonds.     Ah  !  the  news  of  your  arrival  has  spread, 
and  they  are  before  me  —  here,  Piso,  is   the  woman  of 
the  desert,  and  the  young  Ishmael,  and  here,  lady,  are 
two  dark-eyed  nymphs  of  Ecbatana.     Children,  this  is 
the  beautiful   Princess  of  Palmyra,  whose    name   you 
have  heard  more  than  once.' 

It  was  a  pretty  little  circle,  Fausta,  as  the  eye  neeti 
behold ;  and  gathered  together  here  by  how  strange  cir- 
cumstances !  The  very  sun  of  peace  and  joy  seemed 
breaking  from  the  countenance  of  Isaac.  He  caressed 
first  one  and  then  another,  nor  did  he  know  how  to  leave 
off  kissing  and  praising  them. 

When  we  had  thus  sat,  and  made  ourselves  known 
all  around  to  each  other,  Julia  said  to  Isaac,  '  that  she 
should  hope  often  to  see  him  and  them  in  the  same 


240 


A  TJ  R  E  L  I  A  N 


way  ;  but  however  often  it  might  be,  and  at  whatever 
other  times,  she  begged,  that  annually,  on  the  Ides  ol 
January,  she  with  Piso  might  be  admitted  to  his  house 
and  board,  to  keep  with  them  all  a  feast  of  grateful  re 
collection.  Whatever  it  is  that  makes  the  present  hour 
so  happy  to  us  all,  we  owe,  Isaac,  to  you.' 

1  Lady  !  to  the  providence  of  the  God  of  Abraham ! ' 
1  In  you,  Isaac,  I  behold  his  providence.' 
*  Lady,  it  shall  be  as  you  say  —  on  the  Ides  of  Janu 
ary,  will  we,  as  the  years  go  round,  call  up  to  our  minds 
these  dark  and  bloody  times,  and  give  thanks  for  the 
great  redemption.  Were  Probus  but  with  you,  and  to 
be  with  you,  Piso,  your  cup  were  full.  And  he  had 
been  here,  but  for  the  voice  of  one,  who,  just  as  the  third 
lion  had  been  uncaged,  fixed  again  the  wavering  mind 
of  Aurelian,  who  then,  madman-like,  set  on  him  that 
forest-full  of  beasts.  At  that  moment,  I  found  it,  Piso, 
discreetest  to  depart.' 

'  And  was  your  hand  in  that  too,  Isaac  ?  Were  those 
lions  of  your  training  ?  and  that  knave's  lies  of  your 
telling  ?' 

'  Verily  thou  mayest  say  so.' 
'  But  was  that  the  part  of  a  Jew  ?' 
'  No,'  said  Julia,  *  it  was  only  the  part  of  Isaac.' 
'  Probus,'  said  Isaac,  *  was  the  friend  of  Piso  and  Julia, 
and  therefore  he  was  mine.     If  now  you  ask  how  I  love 
you  so,  I  can  only  say,  I  do  not  know.     We  are  riddles 
to  ourselves.     When  I  first  saw   thee,  Piso,    I    fancied 
thee,  and  the  fancy  hath  held  till  now.     Now,  where  love 
is,  there  is  power — high  as  heaven,  deep  as  hell.  Where 
there  is  the  will,  the  arm  is  strong  and   the   wits    clear. 
Mountains  of  difficulty  and    seas    of  danger  sink  into 


•  A  TTR  E  L  I  A  N  .  241 

mole-hills  and  shallow  pools.  Besides,  Piso,  there  is  no 
virtue  in  Rome  but  gold  will  buy  it,  and,  as  thou  know- 
est,  in  that  I  am  not  wanting.  Any  slave  like  Curio,  or 
he  of  the  Flavian,  may  be  had  for  a  basket-full  of  oboli 
With  these  two  clues,  thou  canst  thread  the  labyrinth.' 

Though  our  affairs,  Fausta,  now  put  on  so  smiling  a 
face,  we  do  not  relinquish  the  thought  of  visiting  you  ; 
and  with  the  earliest  relenting  of  the  winter,  so  that  a 
Mediterranean  voyage  will  be  both  safe  and  pleasant, 
shall  we  turn  our  steps  toward  Palmyra. 

Demetrius  greatly  misses  his  brother,  But  what  he 
has  lost,  you  have  gained. 

What  at  this  moment  is  the  great  wonder  in  Rome  is 
this — a  letter  has  come  from  the  Legions  in  Thrace  in 
terms  most  dutiful  and  respectful  toward  the  Senate,  de 
ploring  the  death  of  Aurelian,and  desiring  that  they  will 
place  him  in  the  number  of  the  gods,  and  appoint  his 
successor.  This  is  all  that  was  wanted  to  confirm  us 
in  our  peace.  Now  we  may  indeed  hail  Tacitus  as 
Augustus  and  Emperor.  Farewell. 


Piso  has  mentioned  with  brevity  the  death  of  Aureli- 
an,  and  the  manner  of  it  as   first  received  at  Rome.     I 
will  here  add  to  it  the  account  which  soon  became  current 
in  the  capital,  and  which  to  this  time    remains  withou 
contradiction. 

21  VOL.   II. 


242  AURELIAN. 

Already  has  the  name  of  Menestheus  occurred  in 
these  memoirs.  He  was  one  of  the  secretaries  of  the 
Emperor,  always  near  him  and  much  in  his  confidence. 
This  seemed  strange  to  those  who  knew  both,  for  Me 
nestheus  did  not  possess  those  qualities  which  Aurelian 
esteemed.  He  was  selfish,  covetous,  and  fawning  ;  his 
spirit  and  manner  those  of  a  slave  to  such  as  were  above 
him — those  of  a  tyrant  to  such  as  were  below  him.  His 
affection  for  the  Emperor,  of  which  he  made  great  dis 
play,  was  only  for  what  it  would  bring  to  him  ;  and  his 
fidelity  to  his  duties  which  was  exemplary,  grew  out  of 
no  principle  of  integrity,  but  was  merely  a  part  of  that 
self-seeking  policy  that  was  the  rule  of  his  life.  His 
office  put  him  in  the  way  to  amass  riches,  and  for  that 
reason  there  was  not  one  perhaps  of  all  the  servants  of 
the  Emperor  who  performed  with  more  exactness  the 
affairs  entrusted  to  him.  He  had  many  times  incurred 
the  displeasure  of  Aurelian,  and  his  just  rebuke  for  acts 
of  rapacity  and  extortion,  by  which,  never  the  empire, 
but  his  own  fortune  was  profited  ;  but,  so  deep  and  ra 
ging  was  his  thirst  of  gold,  that  it  had  no  other  effect 
than  to  restrain  for  a  season  a  passion  which  was  des 
tined,  in  its  further  indulgence,  to  destroy  both  master 
and  servant. 

Aurelian  had  scarcely  arrived  at  the  camp  without 
the  walls  of  Byzantium,  and  was  engaged  in  the  final 
arrangements  of  the  army  previous  to  the  departure  for 
Syria — oppressed  and  often  irritated  by  the  variety  and 
weight  of  the  duties  which  claimed  his  care  —  when, 
about  the  hour  of  noon,  as  he  was  sitting  in  his  tent,  he 
was  informed,  "  that  one  from  Rome  with  pressing 
business  craved  to  be  heard  of  the  Emperor," 


AURELIAN.  243 

He  was  ordered  to  approach. 

4  And  why,'  said  Aurelian,  as  the  stranger  entered, 
have  you  sped  in  such  haste  from  Rome  to  seek  me  ? ' 

1  Great  Csesar,  I  have  come  for  justice  !' 

4  Is  not  justice  well  administered  in  the  courts  of 
Rome,  that  thou  must  pursue  me  here,  even  to  the  gates 
of  Byzantium  ? ' 

4  None  can  complain,'  replied  the  Roman,  « that  justice 
hath  been  withheld  from  the  humblest  since  the  reign 
of  Aurelian  — ' 

4  How  then,'  interrupted  Aurelian,  4  how  is  it  that 
thou  comest  hither  ?  Quick  !  let  us  know  thy  matter  ?' 

4  To  have  held  back,'  the  man  replied,  '  till  the  return 
of  the  army  from  its  present  expedition,  and  the  law 
could  be  enforced,  were  to  me  more  than  ruin.' 

4  What,  knave,  has  the  army  to  do  with  thee,  or  thou 
with  it  ?  Thy  matter,  quick,  I  say.' 

4  Great  Caesar,'  rejoined  the  other,  4 1  am  the  builder 
of  this  tent.  And  from  my  workshops  came  all  these 
various  furnishings,  of  the  true  and  full  value  of  all  of 
which  I  have  been  defrauded  — ' 

4  By  whom  ?'  * 

4  By  one  near  the  Emperor,  Menestheus  the  noble 
secretary.' 

4  Menestheus  !  Make  out  the  case,  and,  by  the  great 
god  of  Light,  he  shall  answer  it.  Be  it  but  a  farthing 
he  hath  wronged  thee  of,  and  he  shall  answer  it.  Me 
nestheus  ?' 

4  Yes,  great  Emperor,  Menestheus.  It  was  thus. 
When  the  work  he  spoke  for  was  done  and  fairly  de 
livered  to  his  hands,  agreeing  to  the  value  of  an  obolus 
and  the  measure  of  a  hair,  with  the  strict  commands  he 


244  A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

gave,  what  does  he  when  he  sees  it,  but  fall  into  a  rage 
and  swear  that  'tis  not  so  —  that  the  stuff  is  poor,  the 
fashion  mean  and  beggarly,  the  art  slight  and  imperfect, 
and  that  the  half  of  what  I  charged,  which  was  five 
hundred  aurelians,  was  all  that  I  should  have,  with 
which,  if  I  were  not  content  and  lisped  but  a  syllable  of 
blame,  a  dungeon  for  my  home  were  the  least  I  might 
expect ;  and  if  my  knavery  reached  the  ear  of  Aurelian, 
from  which,  if  I  hearkened  to  him,  it  should  be  his  care 
to  keep  it,  my  life  were  of  less  value  than  a  fly's.  Know 
ing  well  the  power  of  the  man,  I  took  the  sum  he  prof 
fered,  hoping  to  make  such  composition  with  my  credit 
ors,  that  I  might  still  pursue  my  trade,  for,  0  Emperor, 
this  was  rny  first  work,  and  being  young  and  just  ven 
turing  forth,  I  was  dependent  upon  others.  But,  with 
the  half  price  I  was  allowed  to  charge,  and  was  paid,  I 
cannot  reimburse  them.  My  name  is  gone  and  I  am 
ruined.' 

'  The  half  of  five  hundred  —  say  you  —  was  that  the 
sum,  and  all  the  sum  he  paid  you  ?' 

1  It  was.  And  there  are  here  with  me  those  that  will 
attestlt.' 

'  It  needs  not  ;  for  I  myself  know  that  from  the 
treasury  five  hundred  aurelians  were  drawn,  and  said, 
by  him,  for  this  work  —  which  well  suits  me  —  to  have 
been  duly  paid.  Let  but  this  be  proved,  and  his  life  is 
the  least  that  it  shall  cost  him.  But  it  must  be  well 
proved.  Let  us  now  have  thy  witnesses.' 

Menestheus  at  this  point,  ignorant  of  the  charge  then 
making  against  him,  entered  the  tent.  Appalled  by  th« 
apparition  of  the  injured  man,  and  grasping  at  a  glance 
the  truth,  all  power  of  concealment  was  gone,  conscious 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  245 

gnilt  was  written  in  the  color  and  in  every  line  and  fea 
ture  of  the  face. 

4  Menestheus  ! '  said  Aurelian,  *  knowest  thou  this 
man  ?' 

'  He  is  Virro,  an  artisan  of  Rome  ;'  replied  the  trem 
bling  slave. 

'  And  what  think  you  makes  him  here  ? ' 

The  Secretary  was  silent. 

*  He  has  come,  Menestheus,  well  stored   with  proofs, 
beside  those  which  I  can  furnish,  of  thy  guilt.     Shall 
the  witnesses  be  heard  ?    Here  they  stand.' 

Menestheus  replied  not.  The  very  faculty  of  speech 
had  left  the  miserable  man. 

'  How  is  it,'  then  said  Aurelian  in  his  fiercest  tones, 
*  how  is  it  that  again,  for  these  paltry  gains,  already 
rolling  in  wealth  —  thou  wilt  defile  thy  own  soul,  and 
bring  public  shame  upon  me  too,  and  Rome  !  Away  to 
thy  tent !  and  put  in  order  thine  own  affairs  and  mine. 
Thou  hast  lived  too  long.  Soldiers,  let  him  be  strongly 
guarded. —  Let  Virro  now  receive  his  just  dues.  Men 
call  me  cruel,  and  well  I  fear  they  may  ;  but  unjust,  ra 
pacious,  never,  as  I  believe.  Whom  have  I  wronged, 
whom  oppressed  ?  The  poor  of  Rome,  at  least,  cannot 
complain  of  Aurelian.  Is  it  not  so,  sirrah  ? ' 

*  Rome,'  he  replied,  '  rejoices  in  the  reign  of  Aurel 
ian.     His  love  of  justice  and  of  the  gods,  give  him  a 
place  in  every  heart.' 

Whether  Aurelian  would  have  carried  into  execution 
the  threat,  which  in  a  moment  of  passion  he  had  pas 
sionately  uttered,  none  can  tell.  All  that  can  be  said  is 
this,  that  he  rarely  threatened  but  he  kept  his  word. 
VOL.  ii. 


246  A  D  R  E  L  I  A  N  . 

This  the  secretary  knew,  and  knew  therefore,  that  an 
other  day  he  might  never  see.  His  cunning  and  his  wit 
now  stood  him  in  good  stead.  A  doomed  man — he  was 
a  desperate  man,  and  no  act  then  seemed  to  him  a 
crime,  by  which  his  doom  might  be  averted.  Retiring 
to  his  tent  to  fulfil  the  commands  of  the  Emperor,  he 
was  there  left  alone,  the  tent  being  guarded  without  ; 
and  then  as  his  brain  labored  in  the  invention  of  some 
device,  by  which  he  might  yet  escape  the  impending 
death,  and  save  a  life  which  —  his  good  name  being  ut 
terly  blasted  and  gone,  could  have  been  but  a  prolonged 
shame  —  he  conceived  and  hatched  a  plan,  in  its  inge 
nuity,  its  wickedness,  and  atrocious  baseness,  of  a  piece 
with  his  whole  character  and  life.  In  the  handwriting 
of  the  Emperor,  which  he  could  perfectly  imitate,  he 
drew  up  a  list  of  some  of  the  chief  officers  of  the  army 
—  by  him  condemned  to  death  on  the  following  day. 
This  paper,  as  he  was  at  about  the  eleventh  hour  led 
guarded  to  his  place  of  imprisonment,  he  dropt  at  the 
tent  door  of  one  whose  name  was  on  it. 

It  fell  into  the  intended  hands  ;  and  soon  as  the 
friendly  night  had  come  the  bloody  scroll  was  borne 
from  tent  to  tent,  stirring  up  to  vengeance  the  designa 
ted  victims.  No  suspicion  of  fraud  ever  crossed  their 
minds  ;  but  amazed  at  a  thirst  of  blood  so  insatiable, 
and  which,  without  cause  assigned,  could  deliver  over 
to  the  axe  his  best  and  most  trusted  friends,  Carus,  Pro- 
bus,  Mucapor  —  they  doubted  whether  in  truth  his  rea 
son  were  not  gone,  and  deemed  it  no  crime,  but  their 
highest  duty,  to  save  themselves  by  the  sacrifice  of  one 
who  was  no  longer  to  be  held  a  man. 


A  U  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  247 

After  the  noon  of  this  day  the  army  had  made  a  short 
out  quick  march  to  Heraclea.  Aurelian  —  the  tents  be 
ing  pitched  —  the  watch  set  —  the  soldiers,  weary  with 
their  march,  asleep — himself  tired  with  the  day's  duty — 
sat  with  folded  arms,  having  just  ungirded  and  thrown 
from  him  his  sword.  His  last  attendant  was  then  dis 
missed,  who,  passing  from  the  tent  door,  encountered  the 
conspirators  as  they  rushed  in,  and  was  by  them  hewn 
to  the  ground.  Aurelian,  at  that  sound,  sprang  to  his 
feet.  But  alone,  with  the  swords  of  twenty  of  his  bravest 
generals  at  his  breast  —  and  what  could  he  do  ?  One 
fell  at  the  first  sweep  of  his  arm  ;  but,  ere  he  could  re 
cover  himself —  the  twenty  seemed  to  have  sheathed 
their  weapons  in  his  body.  Still  he  fought,  but  not  a 
word  did  he  utter  till  the  dagger  of  Mucapor,  raised 
aloft,  was  plunged  into  his  breast,  with  the  words, 

'  This  Aurelia  sends  !' 

'  Mucapor  ! '  he  then  exclaimed  as  he  sank  to  the 
ground,  *  canst  thou  stab  Aurelian  ? '  Then  turning 
toward  the  others,  who  stood  looking  upon  their  work, 
he  said,  *  Why,  soldiers  and  friends,  is  this  ?  Hold 
Mucapor,  leave  in  thy  sword,  lest  life  go  too  quick  ; 
I  would  speak  a  word — '  and  he  seized  the  wrist  of  Mu 
capor  and  held  it  even  then  with  an  iron  grasp.  He 
then  added,  '  Romans  !  you  have  been  deceived  !  Yo.u 
are  all  my  friends,  and  have  ever  been.  Never  more 
than  now  —  '  His  voice  fell. 

Probus  then  reaching  forward,  cried  out,  unfolding  a' 
the  same  moment  the  bloody  list, 

'  See  here,  tyrant !  are  these  thy  friends  ? ' 

The  eyes  of  Aurelian,  waking  up  at  those  words  with 
all  the  intentness  of  life,  sought  the  fatal  vscroll  and 


248  A  U  R  E  L  i  A  N  . 

sharply  scanned  it  —  then  closing  again,  he  at  the  same 
moment  drew  out  the  sword  of  Mucapor,  saying  as  ho 
did  so, 

*  'Tis  the  hand  of  Menestheus  —  not  mine.  You 
have  been  deceived.'  With  that  he  fell  backwards  and 
expired. 

Those  miserable  men  then  looking  upon  one  another 
— the  truth  flashed  upon  them  ;  and  they  knew  that  to 
save  the  life  of  that  mean  and  abject  spirit  they  there 
stood  together  murderers  of  the  benefactor  of  many  of 
them  —  the  friend  of  all  —  of  a  General  and  Emperor 
whom,  with  all  his  faults,  Rome  would  mourn  as  one 
who  had  crowned  with  a  new  glory  her  Seven  Hills. 
How  did  they  then  accuse  themselves  for  their  unrea 
sonable  haste —  their  blind  credulity!  How  did  they 
bewail  the  cruel  blows  which  had  thus  deprived  them  of 
one,  whom  they  greatly  feared  indeed,  but  whom  also 
they  greatly  loved  !  above  all,  one  whom,  as  their  mas 
ter  in  that  art  which  in  every  age  has  claimed  the  admi 
ration  of  the  world,  they  looked  up  to  as  a  very  god  ! 
Some  reproached  themselves  ;  some,  others  ;  some 
threw  themselves  upon  the  body  of  Aurelian  in  the 
wildness  of  their  remorse  and  grief;  and  all  swore  ven 
geance  upon  the  miscreant  who  had  betrayed  them. 

Thus  perished  the  great  Aurelian — for  great  he  truly 
was,  as  the  world  has  ever  estimated  greatness.  When 
the  news  of  his  assassination  reached  Rome,  the  first 
sensation  was  that  of  escape,  relief,  deliverance  ;  with 
the  Christians,  and  all  who  favored  them,  though  not  of 
their  faith,  it  was  undissembled  joy.  The  streets  pre 
sented  the  appearances  which  accompany  an  occasion  of 
general  rejoicing.  Life  seemed  all  at  once  more  se- 


A  IT  R  E  L  I  A  N  .  249 

0 

eure.  Another  bloody  tyrant  was  dead,  by  the  violence 
which  he  had  meted  out  to  so  many  others,  and  they 
were  glad.  But  with  another  part  of  the  Roman  people 
it  was  far  otherwise.  They  lamented  him  as  the  great 
est  soldier  Rome  had  known  since  CsBsar  ;  as  the  re 
storer  :>f  the  empire  ;  as  the  stern  but  needful  reformer 
of  a  corrupt  and  degenerate  age  ;  as  one  who  to  the  ar 
my  had  been  more  than  another  Vespasian  ;  who,  as  a 
prince,  if  sometimes  severe,  was  always  just,  generous, 
and  magnanimous.  These  were  they,  who,  caring  more 
for  the  dead  than  for  the  living,  will  remember  concern 
ing  them  only  that  which  is  good.  They  recounted  his 
virtues  and  his  claims  to  admiration  —  which  were  un 
questionable  and  great — and  forgot,  as  if  they  had  never 
been,  his  deeds  of  cruelly,  and  the  wide  and  wanton 
slaughter  of  thousands  and  hundreds  of  thousands,  which 
will  ever  stamp  him  as  one  destitute  of  humanity,  and 
whose  almost  only  title  to  the  name  of  man  was,  that 
he  was  in  the  shape  of  one.  For  how  can  the  posses 
sion  of  a  few  of  those  captivating  qualities,  which  so 
commonly  accompany  the  possession  of  great  power, 
atone  for  the  rivers  of  blood  which  flowed  wherever  he 
wound  his  way  ? 

I  have  now  ended  what  I  proposed  to  myself.  I  have 
arranged  and  connected  some  of  the  letters  of  Lucius 
Manlius  Piso,  having  selected  chiefly  those  which  related 
to  the  affairs  of  the  Christians  and  their  sufferings  dur 
ing  the  last  days  of  Aurelian's  reign.  Those  days  were 
happily  few.  And  when  they  were  passed,  I  deemed 
that  never  again,  so  fast  did  ihe  world  appear  to  grow 
wiser  and  better  could  the  same  horrors  be  repeated 


250  AURELIAN. 

But  it  was  not  so  ;  and  under  Diocletian  I  beheld  that 
work  in  a  manner  perfected,  which  Aurelian  did  but  be 
gin.  I  have  outlived  the  horrors  of  those  times,  and  at 
length,  under  the  powerful  protection  of  the  great  Con- 
stantine,  behold  this  much-persecuted  faith  secure.  In 
this  I  sincerely  rejoice,  for  it  is  Christianity  alone,  of  all 
the  religions  of  the  world,  to  which  may  be  safely  in 
trusted  the  destinies  of  mankind. 


8WD. 


250 

But  it  was  not  so  ; 
work  in  a  manner  p 
gin.  I  have  outlive 
length,  under  the  pi 
stantine,  behold  this 
this  I  sincerely  rejoi 
the  religions  of  the 
trusted  the  destinies 


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